Desperate
by WaitLetMeExplain
Summary: "My stunt," he spat, "was because of you, Granger. You with your constant fucking staring, your eyes following me around, you think I can't feel it? I've felt it since Fifth year and I fucking hated it. And the worst part, Granger, is that other people see it, too. They see you staring at me with your big, brown eyes, devouring me, like you own me when you fucking don't." D/Hr
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plot.**

 **A/N: I really need a beta!**

 **Chapter 1**

He was undoubtedly beautiful. High cheekbones, full lips, platinum blond hair that was always slicked back to perfection -almost too severely, she thought. What she wouldn't give to see it ruffled, mussed up, just for once.

But his best feature had to be his eyes. Those cool grey eyes, always assessing, always analyzing. Always reminding her of a cool winter breeze.

On the odd occasions that they would rest on her, her heart would skip a beat and the rest of the world would fall away. It was as though he could truly _see_ her.

Hermione looked away from the object of her attention and scoffed slightly at her own, naive thought. Draco Malfoy didn't see her, he saw right through her. It was purely wishful on her part to think otherwise.

She toyed with the food on her plate, no longer hungry. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when her... _infatuation_ with Draco had started, but if she had to guess, she would place it around their Fifth Year at Hogwarts.

She had been hurrying back to the Gryffindor Common Room after a Dumbledore's Army meeting and had run headfirst into him. He had instinctively grabbed her arms and pulled her closer to prevent her from landing on her arse and in that instant everything had changed. When she didn't feel the impact of her derrière against the cold, hard stone floor, she had opened her eyes slowly -only to promptly be sucked into his. She didn't know what she found in them, but she had been captivated. She hadn't been able to pull her gaze away for what felt like an eternity, and he had clearly noticed too. His lips had curled into a subtle smirk ( _or had it been a sneer?_ ) and he had firmly set her away from him, completing the motion by taking a full step back.

"Granger."

The sound of his voice had broken her out of her trance.

"What, Malfoy?"

Another smirk ( _sneer?_ ). "Watch where you're going next time."

And that had been the full extent of their exchange. It had surprised her later to realize that he hadn't reported Hermione to that _awful_ woman -Umbridge. She didn't want to dwell on what the reason could be behind that. It was bad enough that she had discovered his eyes and couldn't get them out of her head.

For two years.

Hermione considered herself to be a practical girl, and generally, she was. Of course, she was also a living, breathing person and she had her moments of irrationality. But this could no longer be considered "a moment". This was ridiculous and she could readily admit that to herself. That voice of practicality in her head never missed an opportunity to remind her of just how ridiculous this all was. One did not have a "crush" on a boy for this long. Especially when the boy was Draco Malfoy -son of Lucius Malfoy, prince of Slytherin, purest of the Purebloods, hater of Muggleborns, and an utterly and completely undecided party in this War with Voldemort.

Or maybe his reluctance to choose a side was a positive, in this case. Given his history, Hermione had expected him to be firmly implanted into the Dark side of the War, and yet here he was -not with the Light, not with the Dark.

The biggest, most ridiculous factor, was that he would never return, or entertain these feelings. She had seen his type and, unless she Transfigured herself into a tall, skinny beauty with shiny skin and sleek hair, it was definitely not her.

It was all so wrong.

"Hellooo -Hermione, come back to us!"

Hermione blinked. Ron was waving his hand in front of her face. Judging by the looks on his and Harry's face, they had probably been trying to get her attention for a while. Hermione pursed her lips in an attempt to feign composure. There was no way she could ever admit to ogling Draco Malfoy.

"Ronald, please stop waving like a lunatic. I'm right here."

"Didn't seem like it for a bit there, 'Mione. We've called your name at least three times now."

 _Three_ times? She shot Harry a quick glance to confirm that Ron wasn't exaggerating. Unfortunately, Harry was nodding along in agreement, looking slightly concerned.

"Is everything okay, Hermione?" Harry asked. "You've been staring over at the Slytherin table for a while now."

"Yes," she sighed, trying to furiously come up with a plausible excuse. "Everything's fine. I just have to talk to Malfoy about some Head Prefect duties and I wanted to catch him before he leaves for...wherever."

It wasn't a complete lie. Because fate clearly held a grudge against her, it just wasn't enough to have this unhealthy attraction towards Draco from afar -now she had the absolute _pleasure_ of experiencing it within their joint Head Prefect living quarters as well.

When Hermione had received the letter over the summer holidays, announcing that she had been appointed as the new Head Girl, she had been ecstatic. Her joy had been short-lived, as upon their arrival to Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore had announced to everyone who her male counterpart would be. Hermione's heart had pounded so hard, she had fully expected to find it on the floor. It had gotten even worse when the two of them had been called up to Dumbledore's office to have their living situation explained to them. Hermione had experienced a head rush so strong that she had had to grip the edges of Dumbledore's desk to stop herself from collapsing.

 _This couldn't be happening. This is_ NOT _happening_.

That was the constant litany running through her head, while Dumbledore spoke. Except that it was happening. Draco had given her a cool once-over. Like he knew the effect he had on her. He probably did know. Hermione wasn't the greatest actor out there and these...sensations were too strong.

They were now two weeks into the new term and Hermione had successfully avoided interacting with him so far. She would leave her room early, return late, spend most of her free time with Ron and Harry, or at the library. Whenever she needed to communicate with Draco, she would do so by leaving notes in his cubby hole and he would respond in a similar fashion. Two weeks in, and they had barely crossed paths in their living quarters. If it were up to her, she would keep it that way. She couldn't trust her words around him.

Sadly, it was not up to her and fate once again reared its ugly head. Right before dinner, Professor McGonagall had pulled her aside and requested that she and Draco refine some aspects of the Prefect patrol schedule and deliver the amended version the next day.

 _I am sorry for the short notice, Miss Granger, I know this may interfere with any plans you and Mr. Malfoy may have for this evening, but it is quite imperative that we get this distributed before tomorrow's patrols. These are troubling times and we need certain -precautions -in place._

She had sounded sorry. But not as sorry as Hermione had felt for herself. This couldn't be completed via their usual cubby hole communication.

"Malfoy's a gigantic prat. I can't believe they made him Head Boy." Ron grumbled.

"Do you want us to go with you to talk to him?" That was Harry.

 _Yes._ "No, Harry," she smiled weakly, "I'll be fine. Besides, you and Ron will just end up getting into some silly argument with him and that'll be that."

Harry looked unconvinced, but didn't push further. "Let us know if you change your mind."

Hermione glanced over at the Slytherin table again and saw Draco getting up to leave. No time to change her mind now. She stood up quickly -too quickly she realized, as she felt her thigh come into painful contact with the edge of the table —and walked towards him. Bile was rising up in her throat. Was it because she had to finally speak with him, or was it because of how he had to disentangle himself from Astoria Greengrass' embrace? It didn't matter. She quickened her pace as he started heading towards the doors.

"Malfoy."

She thanked the heavens when her voice came out strong and clear.

He stopped and turned around slowly. "Granger."

She stopped in her tracks. Those eyes. It had been a while since she had felt their full force. They pinned her to an invisible wall and Hermione felt her breath catch.

 _Say something. Pleasepleasepleaseplease-_

"I need to talk to you." It wasn't a witty comment, but it was better than nothing.

He looked at her expectantly, so she continued. "Professor McGonagall needs us to make a few changes to the patrol rotations. We need to have it done before patrols tomorrow."

His brows furrowed slightly in annoyance. She half expected him to tell her to do it herself and walk away. She _hoped_ that he would. To his credit, and her misfortune, he did the exact opposite.

"Fine. I have a few things to take care of right now but I can meet you in our Common Room in an hour."

He didn't wait around for her response. She didn't really have one anyway.

* * *

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip nervously. Draco was due to arrive any second. She had pulled out the existing Prefect rotation chart and spread it out on one of the tables in their Common Room. She was currently in the process of reviewing the new requirements -or at least trying to. She had reread the same sentence multiple times before her brain had registered the words.

She wished that he would just get here already and put her out of her misery.

"Granger."

"OhmyGod!" Hermione jumped, hand over her heart. In all her anxiety, she hadn't even heard him enter. She cleared her throat slightly. "Malfoy. You startled me."

A raised eyebrow. "Expecting someone else?"

"Er -not at all! No one else knows the password to get in. I was wondering where you were and you're rather quiet, actually, and I didn't hear you come in so you caught me by surprise..." she trailed off, blushing as she realized she was rambling.

Great. Now he was looking at her like she had lost her marbles. Which she probably had.

He chose not to answer and instead walked over to her side of the table to examine the chart. The action brought him close to her. Too close. She took in a deep breath. Expensive cologne. Rain. He smelled of rain and something else she couldn't quite pinpoint.

"So what are we looking at?"

"Professor McGonagall has given us these requirements-" she pushed the parchment towards him and shivered slightly as their shoulders brushed "-and we have to implement them into the patrol rotation. I've only glanced over the requirements but it was enough to know that this won't be quick or easy."

"Hmm." His brow furrowed as he read the list. "These aren't just amendments -we pretty much need a new rotation altogether." He sighed in exasperation. "And McGonagall needs this tomorrow?"

"That's what she said." The urgency of this request hinted at potential attacks targeting Hogwarts but getting information out of Minerva McGonagall was harder than keeping food out of Ron's mouth at dinner.

"Why?"

"I suppose it's because we need to keep Hogwarts as safe as possible right now. They want to have these extra measures in place to ensure the Prefects' safety as well." Hermione responded, silently congratulating herself on being able to form coherent sentences.

Each Prefect had been given a token. If they spotted anything suspicious during their patrol, they were to press the token and leave the area immediately. This would alert one of the professors to the Prefect's exact location and they would investigate further. The prefects would patrol the corridors alone and then meet up with other prefects on the same floor at a designated spot. A head count was performed to confirm everyone's presence and then they would head back to their dormitories.

"So McGonagall wants us to pair up each Prefect for the patrols, more than one person from each House on every floor, have a Sixth or Seventh year take the lead on head counts and send out this schedule to all the professors? Well, fuck." Draco ran a hand through his hair impatiently. "This is going to take all night."

Perfect. That's exactly what she needed.

An hour into the task, Hermione had to admit that it was going much better than she had expected. They had discussed what needed to be done, set priorities and divvied up the tasks. Hermione had then selected a tabletop furthest away from where he sat and gotten down to business.

If Draco noticed Hermione's silence and lack of input, he didn't bring it up. In fact, his own silence allowed Hermione to almost let her guard down in the room. Almost, but not quite. There was a palpable tension in the room that she didn't want to disturb. A low hum of energy that they both seemed to exist in. Her body was attuned to his presence, her heart wasn't quite beating at her normal rate and even though she had her back turned to him, it was as though she could sense even his smallest movements.

Which was useful, as a few minutes later, she felt him behind her. Gods, this man's footsteps were more silent than Snape's!

"Granger." His voice was low, quiet, and she felt the vibrations run down her spine. She placed her quill down but didn't turn around.

"Yes?" The word came out on a breath.

Silence, and then-

"Could you look at me when I'm talking to you?" It didn't sound like a suggestion.

Her pulse quickened. She reluctantly turned herself halfway in her chair and looked up at him. In a swift motion, he grabbed arms and pulled her onto her feet. Surprised, she barely registered being pushed against the table and only briefly noticed his intense gaze before his lips crashed into hers.

She couldn't help herself. Her back arched and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to deepen the kiss. She felt the wet heat of his hard tongue swiping at her lower lip, the same one she'd been worrying for over an hour in anxiety. Shamefully, she registered a short, sharp moan -too feminine to have come from him. It sobered her slightly. She was kissing Malfoy. She was _being kissed_ by _Draco Malfoy_. Whatever her body may have been feeling, her brain knew this wasn't right. She didn't know what his game was, but she was making it too easy for him.

Hermione stilled and brought her hands down to his shoulders, pushing him away. He broke the kiss, but remained pressed against her. He was breathing hard, as was she, and his eyes had turned darker, stormier. No longer a cool winter breeze. He looked almost...angry. She swallowed her fear.

"What are you _doing_ , Malfoy?"

"I'm giving you what you so clearly want, Granger."

Before she could respond, he took her chin and deliberately pressed his lips into hers. She was slower to react this time, her brain still dissecting his answer. His free hand slid through her hair, tightened its grip and pulled her head back. This second kiss was different. More frantic, wild. She could almost pretend - _almost_ -that it was an expression of his genuine attraction to her. Hermione whimpered as he gently sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and then bit down on it, hard and hungry. His tongue swiped over it to ease the pain and then he was sucking at her tongue, pressing his mouth deeper and deeper against hers.

Hermione's heart was pounding, racing -as was her mind. This was more than a kiss. This was punishment. This was a show of power. She could feel the tears forming behind her closed eyelids -but no. She wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her cry. She had to stop this -whatever _this_ was -for the sake of her currently fragile mental state.

She wrenched her chin out of his hand and pushed him firmly away. She missed his heat instantly, which disgusted her, considering the circumstances. She made a show of wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy?" she spat out at him.

He let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Like I said, Granger. I'm just giving you what you want."

If there was ever a time to be swallowed by a floor, for Hermione, that time was now. Confusion, embarrassment, arousal, anger and shame all crowded her mind. This was _not_ what she wanted. No one in their right minds would want this dirtiness. But there was something else. A feeling she had never felt before. It made her want to fall to the ground, head in her hands and just scream until it all went away.

"What exactly is it that you think I want, Malfoy? Please, do tell. What deluded process has your mind gone through to justify this?"

"Please, Granger. You know. I know. In fact, I would say the only ones who don't know are your precious best friends."

"Know what?" Her hands were curled up into fists at her side, nails digging into her palms.

"That you want-", he stepped closer and dipped his head to her ear, "-me."

* * *

 **A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed that. Leave a review -constructive criticism welcome and appreciated :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It had been a week since That Night. Hermione had replayed the events in her head an unhealthy number of times, and each time brought a fresh wave of sickness and shame.

She could still hear his words, whispered so callously into her ear. She could still feel the way her palm had stung after she had delivered a resoundingly loud slap to his cheek. He had barely flinched, but it had been so satisfying, nonetheless. But the worst of it had to be how her expectations and girlish notions had shattered in those few seconds. It had left her feeling hollow.

But what could she really have ever expected from the likes of Draco Malfoy? The common sense part of her knew that years and years of bad blood between them had ensured this outcome. Regardless of whatever feelings she may have been harbouring for him, Hermione had to remind herself that he clearly did not feel the same. Nor was he under any obligation to.

 _But did he have to be this cruel?_

Hermione brushed the self-pitying thought out of her mind. She had stupidly fallen for him -Merlin knew why -and that had automatically given him the upper hand. It was her own fault for believing that a dragon could be tamed. Dragons were vicious creatures -beautiful to look at from afar, mighty in their powers of destruction, but vicious nonetheless.

It didn't matter now, anyway. It was all over.

Hermione hadn't returned to her room that night, sharing a bed with Ginny in the Gryffindor tower instead. To Ginny's credit, she had asked very few questions upon receiving Hermione in the early hours of the morning

"Everyone needs at least a night away from that horrendous git." She had mumbled sleepily, moving over to make space in the bed. Hermione had responded with a watery smile and silent thanks.

She had delivered the new Prefect rotation schedule to Professor McGonagall the next morning and had received no complaints so far. Not that she had expected any complaints -she had thrown herself into the task after the debacle with Draco and had delivered stellar results, as always.

Avoiding him turned out to be an easier task than usual and it was certainly helped by the fact that he also seemed to be avoiding her. In fact, she wasn't entirely certain that he had even stepped into their living quarters since that night. That suited her just fine, although at some point during the week, Hermione had come to the conclusion that if she happened to face him, so be it. She had been exposed and rejected by him and there was nothing left for either of them to hide or discover. It was better knowing, than not. After all, she was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. The best way to deal with something was to tackle it head-on.

It was with this renewed sense of self that she was enjoying breakfast with Harry and Ron on Saturday morning. The boys were laughing over some joke Ron had made and Hermione smiled along indulgently. It was nice to see them, especially Harry, so carefree. The surging battle and violence taking place in the Wizarding World had everyone on edge, but those closest to Harry could see the toll it was taking on him. He had resumed his Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape and Hermione was pleased to see him taking it seriously. She knew he missed Sirius dearly and she knew he still blamed himself for his death. She sometimes wished that it were possible to physically take all his guilt away. She wished he'd talk to someone about it. Instead, Harry had manifested his emotions by training hard. Almost every evening, he would either be in an empty classroom practising his spells, or at Quidditch practice, or Occlumency with Snape, or discussing the progress of locating the remaining Horcruxes with Dumbledore. Hermione tried to help him as much as she could by researching new spells to add to their repertoire and potions she felt would be useful to have on hand. She had also gathered as much information on Horcruxes as she possibly could, but even books from the Restricted Section only provided a limited amount of information on the taboo subject.

"We should take a trip to Hogsmeade today." Ron suggested, breaking through Hermione's musings. "I'm itching for some Butterbeer."

"Sure, _that's_ what you're itching for Ron," Ginny piped up good-naturedly. "I'm sure Madam Rosmerta has nothing to do with it."

Ron turned an interesting shade of puce and started to splutter a denial at the mention of the busty barmaid.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind going to Hogsmeade.I need some broomstick cleaning supplies anyway. Hermione, want to join?" Harry looked at her.

As tempting as it was- "I wish I could, but I have to work on my Charms essay. I'll be spending some time at the library today."

"Come on, 'Mione," Ron complained, rolling his eyes. "It's the weekend! Live a little! You can work on it tomorrow."

"Thank you for your input, Ronald, but you'd do well to remember that you'll most likely be copying off my work tomorrow. It's really in your best interests that I get it done today."

Ron wouldn't even attempt to argue that. A few minutes later, they all gathered their belongings, bid each other goodbye and headed their separate ways. Hermione fell in step to her familiar route to the library, lost in thoughts of her Charms essay. She had traversed these hallways so many times, she could probably make her way there with her eyes closed.

The comforting smell of books alerted her to the fact that she had reached her destination. She smiled at Madam Pince as she walked in and dropped her backpack on a chair to save herself a spot. It wasn't really necessary, as the library was nearly empty. She recognized a couple of Sixth Year Ravenclaws sitting a table further away, but the tables closest to hers were empty.

She walked through the dimly lit aisles of bookshelves, quickly locating the books she needed for her essay. She knew the library like the back of her hand -of course, she had spent a significant amount of time here over the past six years. It was a mystery to Harry and Ron why she loved the library so much. It was hard to explain and even if she could explain it, she wasn't sure they'd understand. Hermione had an insatiable thirst for knowledge. It wasn't that she wanted to be the brightest student of the year or that she wanted to outsmart everyone. She just had various interests, and once something piqued her interest, she wanted to know as much as possible about it. She had been that way since she was a child, often foregoing playing outside for the company of books. When she found out she was a witch, it opened up a whole new world, literally, for her to explore. The Hogwarts Library was one of the most well-stocked libraries in the Wizarding World and had books on practically every topic imaginable. This was Hermione's idea of heaven.

* * *

Hermione completed the last sentence of her essay and set down her quill. She had extended it by twenty inches over what was required -surely Professor Flitwick wouldn't mind. A quick glance at her watch confirmed that a few hours had gone by (in the blink of an eye, in Hermione's opinion). She leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head, satisfied with her work. This was the first time since the beginning of the new school year that she had truly felt at ease. Yes, Voldemort was still out there, yes, they were in the middle of battle, yes, Malfoy was still a prick who had caused one of the most embarrassing moments of her life, but in this very moment, Hermione was able to put it all out of her mind and just _be_.

Harry and Ron would be getting back soon, she thought. It would be nice to spend some more time with them. She decided that she would wait for them in the Gryffindor Common Room. She cleared her belongings off the table and walked back into the aisles of bookshelves with the textbooks piled up in her arms. She could have just handed them back to Madam Pince, but the librarian already had enough to do and Hermione knew exactly where the books belonged. As she slid the last book into its place near the end of the aisle, she heard a familiar voice. What really peaked her interest was _who_ they were talking about.

"-and Draco told me he'd take care of it."

Was it really eavesdropping if they were speaking loudly enough for people around them to hear? Granted, they didn't know that anyone else was around them. A short mental debate later, Hermione cautiously tiptoed over the row of books to catch a better glimpse of her present company. It was for purely research purposes, she argued. Know thy enemy, and all.

Astoria and Daphne Greengrass.

"Tori," Daphne sighed, "I don't know why you're so fixated on this. So she has a little crush on him, big deal! Half the girls in the school do."

A sense of foreboding creeped up Hermione's chest.

"Half the girls in the school don't _live_ with him, Daph! And Merlin knows she's smart enough to whip up a love potion and slip it into his drink!"

Hermione slapped a hand to her mouth in horror. Were they...talking about her?

"Have you met Granger? She's the epitome of Gryffindor, Tori. Not exactly the kind to slip a love potion into anyone's drink. I honestly do not understand why you're acting like this."

"Because," Astoria huffed, "she's really getting on Draco's nerves! He can't stop talking about her, Daph! We were fooling around in the Astronomy Tower the other night and he seemed distracted. So I did what any good girlfriend would do and asked him about it and then he just wouldn't shut up about her. How he can't get her to cooperate with him on Prefect duties and how she's such a know-it-all! It ruined my entire night!"

"It sounds like he hates her and you have nothing to worry about," Daphne countered dryly.

"You didn't hear him. He sounded...different when he was talking about her. I need to get his mind off her, Daph."

"So what're you going to do, then?"

"Oh, I don't know," Astoria's voice turned playful. "I was thinking of surprising him in his room -"

Hermione quietly backed away from her spot and hurriedly made her way back to her table. She had heard enough -no, more than enough. The sick feeling was back and she wished she hadn't decided to listen in. Curiosity did kill the cat after all.

She stuffed her belongings into her backpack mindlessly. Suddenly the library didn't feel like a sanctuary anymore. It felt as though the walls were closing in on her and she couldn't breathe. She needed air.

She walked through the hallways briskly, on autopilot, with no precise destination in mind. She just needed to get _out_.

She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt someone grab her arm and pull her behind a tapestry and through a concealed door. She would have put up more of a fight had she not recognized his distinct scent.

 _No..._

She wrenched her arm out of his grip as soon as they entered the room and she turned around to the sound of a door clicking shut. She breathed in deeply to calm her nerves as much as she possibly could and looked squarely at her interceptor.

"What's the meaning of this, Malfoy? Where are we?"

He looked perfect, as usual, and not in the least bit affected. Every strand of hair in place, impeccably clothed in a dark set of expensive-looking wizard robes. She immediately felt self-conscious about her uncombed mass of curls and her slightly too-large t-shirt and old jeans. They were her comfortable, I'm-going-to-spend-a-few-hours-at-the-Library clothes. They didn't quite give her an upper hand at a face-off with a Malfoy. She tried to avoid staring into his eyes and focused her gaze somewhere around his forehead. She had read in a Muggle magazine that that gave off the impression of maintaining eye contact.

"This is an old Transfiguration classroom, Granger. I'm surprised you didn't read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

"They don't really have blueprints of the castle in the book, Malfoy. What do you want?" Her voice sounded snappy and tense to her own ears and she cursed herself for showing signs of weakness.

He shrugged and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. He was the image of casualness but Hermione could sense the tension coiled up inside of him. His movements were too tight, too calculated. "To see you."

Hermione wanted to yell at his response. The conversation between the Greengrasses had been bad enough. This was the last thing she needed right now.

"Really, Malfoy?" she bit out, "And you couldn't have done that in the living quarters we happen to _share_? In any case, I didn't think there was much left to say between us. And certainly nothing that requires being dragged into an old classroom."

"Au contraire, Granger. There's a lot to say. You seem to be forgetting that you're Head Girl and I'm Head Boy and we have to work together. I won't have you jeopardizing my performance because of your -needs."

Hermione's mouth fell open in indignation. "I'd ask you what you think my needs are Malfoy, but if my memory serves me correctly, we've been down that rabbit hole before. I don't need you, Malfoy, nor do I want you. And I was fully prepared to work with you this year until you pulled that little stunt the other night."

He suddenly pushed off the wall and stormed towards her. She hurriedly took a few steps back to keep a safe distance between them. Her foot caught against something and she landed on the floor with a painful thud. Draco was crouched over her in an instant. If it was concern she was expecting, she was sorely mistaken. He had her legs trapped between his own, his hands were planted on either side of her head and his face was a mere inches away from hers. The sides of his heavy robes fell around him, and she was engulfed by him. She hoped he couldn't see the fear in her eyes. Not that she was scared of him, no. It was more so her reaction to his proximity that she hoped would remain undiscovered.

"Get off me, Malfoy."

"My stunt," he spat, "was because of _you_ , Granger. You with your constant fucking staring, your eyes following me around, you think I can't feel it? I've felt it since Fifth year and I fucking hated it. And the worst part, Granger, is that other people see it too. They see you staring at me with your big, brown eyes, devouring me, like you own me when you fucking don't. I've had to deal with my friends, my girlfriends, convince them that there's nothing between us. Can you imagine?" Draco laughed softly. "Me and Potter's precious Mudblood. Priceless. So I kiss you because I hope that's enough for you, enough of me for you to just _fucking stop_. But it's not, is it? You want more. I could see it in your eyes that night and I can see it in your eyes now."

He paused to take a deep breath.

"I can't give you more, Granger, you know that." His whisper was harsh. She had a fleeting thought that he was trying to convince himself as much as her. She didn't need convincing...and she wasn't sure why he would either.

Hermione was frozen in place, unable to move or speak or even blink. She could feel nausea rising because she recognized the truth when she heard it.

"And now that you've realized this, you can't even look at me anymore."

He was right. She had made concerted efforts in not letting her eyes roam to the Slytherin table in search for him at mealtimes or during class. If they did happen upon him, she forced herself not to linger. She was surprised that he'd noticed.

"Wasn't that your ultimate goal then, Malfoy?" Hermione choked out the question. "I've stopped staring at you, so you don't have to feel repulsed all the time now."

"Is that it then, Granger? You're done with me?"

"Yes." She wanted it to be the truth. She really did.

"Liar."

"You should just take my word for it and move on, Malfoy. For your sake and - _Astoria's_." She finally met his piercing gaze for the first time in a week. There was no change in his demeanour at the mention of his girlfriend's name. Rather, he seemed to be examining her face, looking for something. She didn't understand why he was doing this, why any of this was happening. She didn't understand what had triggered him to act this way.

"I can't, Granger. I thought you Gryffindors were honest to a fault. You should leave the lying to nasty little Slytherins like me."

"Just let me go, Malfoy. I'm done with this conversation."

"You're not in any position to be making demands, Granger."

"You're acting demented!"

"Maybe I am demented." He dipped his head and nipped at her earlobe. She gasped and pulled her head away to escape his attentions, while pushing ineffectively at his shoulders. Undeterred, he brushed his lips against the sensitive spot where her neck met her ear, down the column of her throat, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat and continued around the edges of the V-neck of her t-shirt. Hermione let out an involuntary whimper and immediately pursed her lips to suppress the sound.

"Is this turning you on, Granger?"

The question was cold, taunting and it reminded her too much of That Night. He was pushing her again. He wanted her to know who was in charge. He was getting off on playing on her emotions, embarrassing her. Something inside of her snapped. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and she wanted to take this moment back. He wanted honesty? She'd give it to him. He thought she was a psycho with some crazy, fatal attraction? _So be it_. She was so over this.

"Yes."

She looked back at him defiantly, daring him to open his mouth. He looked slightly surprised. Finally, _finally_ , the tables were turning. She hoped. She continued, her voice thick with sarcasm.

"Doesn't that just make your skin crawl, Malfoy? Little old Mudblood me, turned on by _you_. Actually _enjoying_ feeling you on top of me. Doesn't it just _disgust_ you, Malfoy? You had to put your lips on me, on my dirty skin, just to prove a point, and it didn't work because I _loved_ it. What are you going to do about it?"

His face was unreadable, save for his eyes, which had darkened considerably. He was silent for what felt like a long time. When he finally did speak, it was to say the last thing Hermione expected to hear.

"I'm going to kiss you now, Granger. Are you going to have a problem with that?"

Hermione expelled a breath she didn't even know she was holding in and slowly shook her head.

"Good."

He gently grabbed her arms and pinned them over her head with one hand, effectively stretching her out below him, while propping himself up with his other hand.

"I don't want you to touch me," he whispered as he lowered his head towards her.

He slowly kissed along her chin until his lips were on hers. His tongue swept over her sensitive bottom lip and sucked it gently between his own. She gasped into his mouth and tried to release her hands, unsuccessfully. Physically, he was much stronger than she had imagined. His lips were soft and massaging against hers and she could feel her own tingling. She felt heady, aroused, at being restrained by him in this way. He had fully lowered himself onto her now and she reveled in the feel of his body against her own.

In this moment, there were no thoughts of obsessive stares, or girlfriends, or erratic behaviour. All that existed was a desperate hunger.

Draco deepened the kiss, seeking her tongue out with his own. The hand restraining her arms had moved away and was now tangled in her hair. His other hand was on her hip, massaging her over her t-shirt. With her own hands free, she began to explore the expanse of his back, his sides and back up to his arms. He groaned at the feeling of her hands on him. Despite his previous words, he didn't seem to mind being touched. She could feel his hardness pressed into her thigh and felt a rush of wetness soak her knickers. _She_ had done that.

His fingers came into contact with a patch of skin that had been revealed by her t-shirt riding up. She could feel them still for a moment, and then they resumed their stroking motion. He seemed to be stopping himself from going further. Her body arched slightly, seeking more contact, but his fingers refused to budge. She huffed in frustration, the sound swallowed by his mouth, and pulled herself closer to him.

 _So desperate._

The words floated across her mind and doused Hermione like a bucket of cold water. What was she doing? She had meant to crack his facade with her earlier outburst, not prolong her own torture. She certainly hadn't wanted to come across starved for his touch. How had she fallen in so deep?

She disentangled her arms from him and pushed him away. He must have sensed the change in her, because he offered no resistance to her shove. Once she was no longer being pinned down by him, she hurriedly scrambled away, putting as much distance between them as possible. She pulled her knees up to her chest and observed him as he sat up slowly. They were both breathing hard and fast. Neither said anything for a long time. She continued to stare at him, waiting for something, anything to happen. He didn't meet her gaze, opting to stare at the floor instead, seemingly deep in thought. What did people do in these situations? The silence grew until it bordered on suffocating.

Finally, just as she opened her mouth to speak-

"You should go."

The words were spoken in an emotionless, disengaged voice. Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She left.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for any formatting issues -I typed out and posted this through my phone! I'll fix the formatting when I have a chance. Again, review and leave me your thoughts :) Also, if you're wondering why the writing is garbage -it's because I don't have a beta.**

 **I'm trying not to write Draco's perspective at all -I want this to be from Hermione's point of view. Let's see how that goes!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The Gryffindor Common Room was empty and quiet when Hermione got there. She dropped her backpack on the floor and fell into the closest armchair she could find. She took in deep, shuddering breaths.

 _What the fuck just happened?_

The fact that she was now thinking in profanities reflected the impact this situation was having on her psyche. It was too confusing, too traumatic, too everything. How did a crush manifest into something so dark and disturbing? What was Draco thinking? Why had he kissed her the first time? And then, why did he kiss her again? If she hadn't broken away, how much farther would they have gone? It pained Hermione to acknowledge, albeit to herself, that she would have let him go all the way and she would have been a willing participant. She could still feel him, everywhere. On her lips, her hips, her mind. It was disconcerting. Hermione didn't like being disconcerted.

Her erratic breathing didn't seem to want to subside.

 _Focus, Hermione, focus! What if Harry or Ron walk in?_

It would be hard to come up with a lie so easily while everything was so fresh in her mind. She needed to break it all down and process it and compartmentalize it, like she did with all her problems. She may never find a solution to this particular problem, but at least she could just...never think of it again. Or maybe, only on very special occasions. She closed her eyes.

She was clearly very infatuated with Draco Malfoy. She had accepted that.

He knew about her infatuation. That was a hard pill to swallow.

Apparently multiple Slytherins knew. That was an even harder pill to swallow.

One of those Slytherins happened to be his -Hermione grimaced at the thought -girlfriend.

According to Astoria, Hermione had gotten under Draco's skin somehow. This wasn't news to anyone. He had hated her from the start. Her blood impurity, her friendship with Harry, her being a Gryffindor, her being the smartest witch in school -there were many reasons as to why he'd feel that way. And now, they were forced to work together -which wasn't really going as planned, and he perceived it as a negative light being painted on his abilities as Head Boy. Fair enough.

On all these aspects, Hermione was clear. She was even able to rationalize some of Draco's behaviour.

Then there were the parts that made no sense. He had kissed her. He told her he hated her staring at him. Then he kissed her again. And she had kissed him back. Desperately.

She could just chalk it up to hormones. Merlin knew hers went into overdrive anytime she was around him.

Hermione's eyes opened slowly. Her breathing was back to normal and the adrenaline rush had passed. She felt drained, just as she had after their first kiss. She needed something to take her mind off the events of the day. It was by some miraculous coincidence that Harry, Ron and Ginny chose that moment to walk into the Common Room. Their windswept hair, their cheeks reddened from the cold, Butterbeer and laughter -they truly looked happy in that moment.

"Hermione!" Ginny squealed as she spotted her, eyes still dancing with laughter. "Please tell me you're done with the library for the day and you're going to spend all evening with us!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh slightly at Ginny's exuberance. It was contagious. It was exactly what she needed. "You'll be happy to know that that's exactly what I intend on doing." Ginny linked her arm through Hermione's as Hermione rose to her feet to greet the boys. "I actually wish I'd been at the Three Broomsticks with you." She sighed wistfully. "I could use a Butterbeer."

Ron mock-gaped at her. "What? You feeling alright, 'Mione? Never thought I'd live to see the day where you'd prefer the Three Broomsticks over the library!"

Harry smiled and nodded along. "I've got to agree with him on this one, 'Mione. But I wish you'd been there with us, too. We missed you."

Hermione looked at him. His eyes were green and warm. She likened them to a lush forest. Very much unlike a certain other wintry-grey pair she was familiar with, that she associated with ice and metal and kisses.

"So, what do you all want to do?"

"Harry and I are going to play a round of Wizarding Chess." Ron replied. "You could play the winner."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "No thanks, Ron. I'd rather not engage in a screaming match with you tonight."

"Hey!" Harry cut in, indignantly. "You've already assumed he's going to win."

"Er...I'm going to leave this conversation now." Hermione laughed. "I'm sure Ginny and I will find something to do."

"Oh, yes, Hermione -that reminds me, I bought this dress and I need your opinion on it."

Without waiting for a response, Ginny tugged Hermione up the staircase and into the girls' dormitory, barely giving Hermione time to squeeze a "See you later!" to Harry and Ron. She flopped down onto Ginny's bed, as Ginny rummaged through her trunk for the dress. Once she had retrieved it, Ginny quickly changed out of her robes and into the dress.

Hermione gasped. "Oh Ginny, it's stunning!"

It was simple in style, but Ginny looked exquisite in it. It was emerald green in colour, strapless with a sweetheart neckline and it hugged her curves until mid-thigh, from which point on the skirt fell freely down to her ankles. With her red hair loose and flowing down her back, she certainly posed a striking image.

"Do you really think so?" Ginny twirled around.

"I really do, Gin! What's the occasion?"

"Well," Ginny's smile fell and she dropped onto the bed next to Hermione. "The Winter Formal. I want it to be special. For Harry and I."

Hermione smiled comfortingly and squeezed Ginny's hand. She knew that Harry and Ginny had grown close over the previous year, and they had spent a lot of time alone over the summer. But now that they were back at school, things had seemed to cool off. Hermione had refrained from questioning Ginny until she younger witch was ready to talk about it.

She took a deep breath and continued. "I've always loved him, 'Mione, you know. We finally had a chance to connect, _truly_ connect last year and he saw me as more than just Ron's baby sister. It was wonderful having him over at The Burrow this summer, except that towards the end of it, he told me that maybe it wasn't a good idea rushing into things, with Voldemort still out there." Ginny scowled. "That he didn't want me to get hurt."

"But you're angry with him." Hermione stated, recognizing the look in the redhead's eyes.

"I am. I really, truly am! We're all in danger and him thinking that we're safer apart than together is the daftest thing I've ever heard. And quite frankly, if something were to happen to me tomorrow, I'd be happier knowing that I'd spent as much time as I could with the ones I love."

"He's just scared, Gin. He doesn't want to lose you, too."

"I know. And losing Sirius didn't help. But I want him to take a chance with me. I need him to take a chance on me. Especially because of the War. If something were to happen to him -" Ginny pressed her knuckles to her mouth, unable to finish the thought. Hermione's heart went out to her.

"Anyway," Ginny brushed down her dress to regain composure and stood back up. "That's why I want to look my best for the Winter Formal."

"Well, you'll have Harry on his knees."

"I sure hope so," Ginny wagged her eyebrows mischievously and laughed as Hermione turned red. A moment of silence ensued as Ginny changed back into her regular clothes. Hermione stared down at her hands, debating whether it would be a good idea to vocalize her current thoughts or not.

"Ginny," she called out softly. "I think I'm in trouble."

Ginny whipped around, concerned. "What kind of trouble?"

"Boy trouble."

The alertness in Ginny's eyes was replaced with excitement. "Merlin, tell me _everything_! I've been waiting for this day for so long!" She clasped her hands together dramatically.

"Well...there's this boy I've had a crush on for a -while, I suppose. I don't think he likes me very much, though." Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes at herself at the major understatement.

"Hmm. Just a casual oh-he's-kind-of-cute crush? Or a set-my-world-on-fire crush?"

 _Definitely the second kind._

Hermione knew that being honest would lead to Ginny badgering her until she found out who it was. Hermione wasn't ready to have _that_ discussion with anyone yet. "The first kind."

"And how do you know he doesn't like you very much?"

"He told me. But then -he kissed me."

"Hermione!" Ginny all but yelled. "What? When? Who? What?!"

Hermione took a deep breath. "He kissed me last week. And earlier today. After he told me that he didn't really like me. And I think he has a girlfriend."

"You've kissed _twice_? Who is it? Do I know him?"

"I'd rather not say, if that's okay."

Hermione could tell it wasn't okay, but Ginny didn't push further. "He can't really say he doesn't like you and then kiss you. Twice. I mean, he _could_ if he wanted to get into your head, but that would be a very Slytherin thing to do." Ginny paused and grimaced. "A very messed up Slytherin, at that."

The thought didn't even seem to cross Ginny's mind that the object of Hermione's affections might be a Slytherin. It was unfathomable, even to Hermione's closest friends. But Ginny had hit the nail on the head -she had fallen for one very messed up Slytherin indeed.

"What should I do? What's the right thing to do?"

Ginny sighed. "Hermione, there is no 'right thing' for this. You have to follow your heart...and your gut. This is something we can't learn from a textbook. This guy -whoever he is -could be messing around, or he could be scared, just like Harry is. This isn't exactly ideal timing. But whether you want to pursue it is up to how you feel. Sometimes you just know that it's right, you can feel it in your bones and in every fibre of your being and that's when you know you have to fight for it. Take some time away from him, and listen to your instincts."

The problem was, Hermione thought, her instincts were telling her to run in the opposite direction as fast as she could.

She didn't want to listen to her instincts.

* * *

The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of activity -mostly self-created for Hermione, as she tried to find ways to keep herself (and her mind) occupied. The busier she was, the less likely she was to do something regrettable. Again.

Draco was still avoiding her, but they had managed to keep up cool, civil appearances at Prefect meetings. At least, he had. She had tried to match his composure, but had stood next to him with blush-stained cheeks at both meetings. She never saw him in their own common room, but she knew he returned late in the night. She would hear footsteps climbing the stairs -sometimes more than one pair, but she tried not to dwell on that too much.

Dumbledore had taken Harry out of Hogwarts for a night to retrieve another potential Horcrux. It would have been too dangerous for anyone to go alone, Harry had said. He had returned shaken by whatever it was he had experienced, but was still unwilling to disclose details of the mission to either Ron or Hermione. He had spent the next few days closed off and withdrawn, his usually vibrant eyes shuttered behind unspoken horrors. Hermione had, with great difficulty, masked her disapproval at Dumbledore. She knew Harry respected the great wizard tremendously, and so did she, but she didn't find it fair or reasonable to involve Harry in a life-threatening mission. Any other _adult_ member of the Order could have accompanied him. The only silver lining had been that the item, a locket, did indeed turn out to be a Horcrux.

In the days following Harry's return, Hermione and Ron had tried to provide as much comfort to him as he would allow. She made an effort to be more present with them and act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She hoped the semblance of normalcy would help Harry recover. It did, slowly. After the first week, he would eat more, sleep more, laugh more at Ron's silly jokes. She hoped that he wouldn't be subjected to anything like this again, at least until the haunted look had left his eyes. But even then, how much could one person be expected to handle before they cracked? Once again, Hermione wished for a way to help him, _truly_ help him. If only he weren't so closed off.

Currently, she was sitting by the lake with Harry, Ron and Ginny. It was really too cold to be doing this, she thought as the chilly October breeze hit her face. She pulled her knees closer to her chest and cast a Heating Charm on herself. The others didn't seem to mind so much. Then again, Hermione had always been sensitive to the cold. She felt as though she'd been born in the wrong place. She couldn't stand the rain or the cold and cloudy skies depressed her. Maybe after Hogwarts, after the war, she could move somewhere warmer, sunnier. She sighed.

"My hands are so cold I think they're about to fall off."

"C'mon, 'Mione," Ron said, "It's not that cold. It's kind of nice, actually." His chest puffed up as he took a deep breath in to reiterate his point.

She glared at Ron and huddled further into her bulky scarf. She could have been at the library right now, not freezing.

Harry and Ginny were engrossed in their own hushed conversation. She saw Harry lean over and kiss her lightly on the lips. She hadn't seen that in a while. She smiled. It gave her hope. And after weeks of avoidance, her mind slowly drifted to Draco. She closed her eyes. What did Ginny say? You felt it in your bones? All Hermione felt was a lot of uncertainty.

 _Come on, Hermione, be brave!_

Be brave.

She stood up abruptly and brushed down her robes. Harry, Ginny and Ron looked up at her questioningly.

"Er, I have some Prefect stuff to work on. I'll meet up with you after dinner."

She rushed back to their Common Room and pulled out a piece of parchment. She wrote a quick note and pushed it into Draco's cubby hole. Before she could change her mind, she headed to the library. Thankfully, she hadn't had to lie to her friends. She truly did have Prefect stuff to work on.

* * *

He wasn't going to show up.

Hermione chewed at her fingernail and nervously tapped her foot. It was at least ten minutes past the time she had written in her note. That was one thing she'd noticed over the years -he was very punctual. Never late to class, never late to Prefect meetings. He'd walk in at the precise minute he was requested to. Sometimes she imagined him lurking behind a pillar nearby, waiting to make his entrance right on the dot.

But now, she had been waiting a while in the old Transfiguration classroom he'd pulled her into weeks ago. He obviously was not going to show up. Clearly, he had made his peace with whatever happened between them and shoved it out of his mind. Or maybe he was trying to get into her head, like Ginny said, and he was bored of his little plaything. Hermione groaned and dropped her head into her hands. He had moved on and she looked like the complete fool _again_.

"I really don't want to waste my time watching you have a mental breakdown, Granger."

Hermione jumped and look up like a deer caught in headlights. He was here. She gave him a subtle (she hoped) once-over and her mouth went dry. He had shunned his robes and only wore his school uniform. She had only ever seen him in school robes, dress robes or Quidditch robes. She had never been able to visually appreciate his frame before. He was perfect.

She swallowed and loosened her tie slightly. "Malfoy," she croaked. Shoot. She cleared her throat.

"What did you want to talk about?" His tone was almost bored and his eyes were expressionless. Like he didn't care at all. Hermione's heart dropped. This had been a bad idea.

"Just...Prefect-related. The Winter Formal."

"We could have done that anywhere. Why are we here?"

Right. She dropped her gaze down to her shoes. What was she doing? Putting off this conversation wouldn't do her any good.

Be brave.

"We're here because -I want to talk about what happened between us."

"Nothing happened between us."

Hermione scoffed. "Malfoy, we -we _kissed_. Twice. That's not nothing."

"They were mistakes. Which I've done a very good job of not repeating." He looked at her and sighed harshly. "Listen, I get it. You fancy me. And I wanted to satisfy your little crush. That's why I kissed you. I was hoping you'd get it out of your system and stop acting like a fucking Flobberworm everytime I walked into the room."

"Really, Malfoy? Because I think you're the one lying this time."

"What the fuck do you mean?" He was getting agitated and that brought her a little satisfaction. Anything was better than the blankness.

"When you kissed me. Both times. I felt it."

"You're fucking insane -"

"You were just as desperate as I was!"

"STOP!" he roared.

He walked a few steps towards her, chest heaving as though he'd run a marathon, and Hermione was surprised to realize that her own feet had carried her closer to him during their exchange. He was now standing but a few feet away.

"I'm _not_ insane and I'm not in denial either, Malfoy. Pity you can't say the same for yourself."

"I'm not in denial! There's nothing to be in denial about!"

"Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm -oomph!"

Hermione cut him off by planting her lips on his own. She breathed in deeply -his signature scent was even stronger without the hindrance of his robes. He felt good against her. She moved her lips against his, focusing all her concentration into eliciting a response from him. After a moment of complete stillness, she felt his warm hands come to rest on her hips and his lips started to move back against her own.

She sighed in appreciation and he tightened his grasp on her hips to pull her closer. He was more frenzied, more consumed now, biting her lip and moving one hand up into her hair to pull her head back. He was kissing her like a starving man and she knew she was giving as good as she got. Except this time, it wasn't a power-play. He wasn't in control.

She wished she could continue but she had a point to make. She broke away from the kiss and stepped away, out of arm's length. He looked at her in confusion. Their silence grew and Draco's eyes slowly filled with anger. She watched as he composed himself and devoid his face of expression.

"Well played, Granger." His drawl was cultured, practiced and didn't reflect the turbulence in his eyes.

"I -I deserve the truth, Malfoy. I know that this can't turn into anything and I don't expect it to, but for my peace of mind, I'd like to know the truth. That I'm not imagining this."

His eyes widened and in a split second something changed. He shut down. Gone was the anger, gone was the determined casualness, gone was any sign that he cared about anything at all.

"For your peace of mind." His voice was quiet, but held a painful, brittle edge to it. "Of course. The Gryffindor fucking Princess. You know what I really, _really_ hate about you lot, Granger? It's your fucking sanctimonious bullshit. Always charging into situations without a fucking thought but when you get in trouble, everyone's got to gather around to help you out." He gave a mocking laugh. "Did you ever think about what your peace of mind would cost _me?_ "

Hermione shuddered. "Malfoy, I didn't mean -"

"Of course you didn't. Because you want what you want, fuck the consequences and fuck the people involved because at least your concerns were put to rest, right? Fuck, Granger, didn't you hear me last time? _I can't give you what you want!"_

"Malfoy, you don't know what I want!"

"Of course I fucking know!" He threw his arms up in frustration. "You want a boyfriend, someone to hold hands with and walk by the lake with and flowers and carry your books to class and someone _good_." He grabbed her chin in his hands and forced him to look at him. "Do I look like that kind of person?"

"Who said I want a boyfriend? What if I just wanted sex?"

Hermione clamped her mouth shut right after the words flew out. She hadn't meant to say that. Of course he was right. She wanted a real relationship. In the moment, she had just wanted to prove him wrong.

He was observing her with an indecipherable look in his eyes. His hand was still holding her chin in place, forcing her to look into his eyes. He was searching for something. A thought flitted across her mind that he might be a Legilimens. Oh Merlin.

Apparently having found what he was looking for, he dropped his hand and turned away with a disgusted look on his face.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob, but didn't turn around.

"Stay the hell away from me, Granger. The next time you pull this kind of shit, you're going to get exactly what you asked for. And it won't be pretty."

Her traitorous body shivered at the promise behind the threat and she watched him leave in silence.

* * *

 **A/N: First of all, a BIG thank you to everyone who's reviewed, followed and favourited this story. I'm glad you're enjoying it! To the Guest reviewer who mentioned The Right Thing To Do in their review -I'd really like to yell at you for leading me to that story. It was great, I loved it and I was up all night reading it. On a Sunday. I did not have a good Monday.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think by leaving a review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

There was something to be said about rejection. It was a horrible feeling, but it also set you free. And as the weeks went by, Hermione found that she had never felt freer. She was no longer weighed down by the constant guilt, the uncertainty or the longing she'd been carrying around for the past two years.

Was she proud of the things she'd said and done? Maybe not, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't appreciate the finality it had afforded her. She had said her piece and Draco had said his. If he wanted her to leave him alone, he'd be happy to know that the message had finally sunken in. In hindsight, she probably should have followed her gut instinct to stay away from him.

 _But_ , she thought wryly, _what doesn't kill you…_

Still, it didn't escape her notice that as the weeks went by, Draco was seen around Hogwarts less and less. Granted, she wasn't actively seeking him out (quite the opposite, in fact), but they didn't cross paths in their shared living quarters (she had stopped listening for him at night), he skipped most meals and his attendance in their shared classes was very poor. He had given up on Prefect meetings altogether, something that made Hermione bristle, considering how much he had _appeared_ to care for his role as Head Boy and how _far_ he'd been willing to go to ensure that it wasn't jeopardized…by _her_ behaviour. The thought made Hermione huff angrily. Regardless, she wasn't self-centred enough to conclude that his absence was as a result of what had transpired between them. Harry and Ron had their own suspicions.

"He's up to no good."

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was now Harry who was staring at Draco obsessively across the Great Hall, angrily chewing on a piece of toast. "He's planning something, I know it."

"He's probably just following in his dear Father's footsteps. Crooked lot, the Malfoys." Ron mumbled through a mouthful of food. "Wouldn't be surprised one bit if he's joined the Death Eaters. Not one bit."

"Let's not jump to conclusions. Someone would have told us. The Order, or Professor Dumbledore." Hermione wasn't defending him, per se. She just wasn't a fan of unfounded accusations. She snuck a glance in his direction. He looked supremely unconcerned for someone purportedly involved in nefarious activities. It was at that moment that he decided to look up in her direction. Their eyes locked for a split second before Hermione turned away, suppressing all too familiar feelings. But it couldn't be denied –there was something different about him.

She took a bite of her eggs and browsed the Daily Prophet. A small frown creased her brows. The reports of Death Eater sightings had increased in frequency, as had reports of attacks on small Muggle towns. The most recent attack had been on a small town on the outskirts of St. Petersburg in Russia. They had captured two of the Death Eaters involved in the attack. The names sounded familiar.

"Durmstrang." Hermione whispered under her breath. These were most likely the wizards from Durmstrang who had been at Hogwarts during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. In fact, Hermione was almost positive that it was them. She shook her head in disappointment and flipped over to the next page.

"Why is Malfoy staring at you?"

Hermione looked over at Harry and then again at the Slytherin table. He was still looking at her, pensively. Her heart did a little flip and she squashed the feeling hurriedly.

"I don't know, Harry. I'm sure he's doing it to antagonize you. Leave it be." She sighed and pushed the paper towards him. "Look at this. More Death Eater attacks."

Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration, but looked away from Draco and down at the article Hermione was showing him. He cursed under his breath as his eyes scanned the page.

"This is bad."

"Yes, it is. And I recognize those names. Durmstrang boys. They were here for the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"I wonder when they were recruited."

"Hard to say, Harry. I've always heard rumours about Durmstrang but I'd like not to believe them."

He made a noise of acquiescence. "Do you and Krum still write to each other?"

"Every few months, when we have time. I haven't responded to his last letter yet. He's been busy with his Quidditch."

"Hm."

"I know what you're thinking, Harry. But no, I highly doubt I'll get any useful information out of him. At least not in a letter."

Harry sighed. "I just wish Dumbledore would tell us _something_. I've barely heard from him since we found that Horcrux. He's been avoiding me."

Hermione patted his arm consolingly. "Maybe he doesn't want to worry you. That last mission was…hard on you." To say the least.

Harry snorted. "Voldemort being alive and well is hard on everyone, 'Mione. Especially the Muggles who get torn out of their homes, tortured and killed."

"Do you know if he's destroyed the Horcrux yet?"

"No. That's another thing I'd like to talk to him about, along with the fact that Hogwarts," his voice dropped to a whisper at this, "is under attack. Almost every night, over the past few weeks. He thinks we don't realize it, but we do. At least, I do."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I do too," she whispered. "I thought I was imagining things, but I've felt the walls...shake…somehow. I've read about this. It's the effect of trying to break old magic."

"How strong have they gotten, if they can break old magic?"

"I don't know, Harry. I don't know."

* * *

It was a few nights later, during her patrol, that she heard a scream reverberate through the hallways, and almost instantly, she felt her token heat up in her pocket. Heart pounding, she pulled out the token. It read '4', indicating that whoever had activated the token was on the fourth floor, which was the one above her own. She heard footsteps around her and knew the Prefects were assembling at the designated meeting point. She hurried to join them and waited a few minutes before performing a quick head count. Everyone was accounted for, including herself, thank Merlin. She instructed them to return to their respective common rooms, reminding them to stay in pairs. She spotted one of the Gryffindor prefects and pulled on the sleeve of his robes before he could leave.

"Tell Harry to find me on the map," she whispered. She knew Harry would understand this to mean the Marauder's Map. The prefect nodded and sprinted towards the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room, his partner in tow.

As soon as the prefects had dispersed, Hermione turned around and ran up the stairs to the fourth floor. It was silent. Almost too silent. She pulled her wand out and crept stealthily in the direction she thought the scream had come from. The adrenaline coursing through her veins had overpowered whatever fear she may have been feeling and she kept moving, keeping in the shadows as much as she could. She had walked down to the end of a corridor and was approaching a turn when she heard a laboured, raspy breath. Casting a Disillusionment Charm on herself, she peeked her head around the corner.

It was Professor Vector. Hermione rushed to the prone witch's side and kneeled down. She didn't look good. Her hands were at her neck, tugging away at invisible ropes suffocating her. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

"Professor!" Hermione whispered harshly.

Professor Vector looked around frantically. Her face had taken on a bluish tinge. Hermione wasn't familiar with this spell, but it was clear that Professor Vector wouldn't be able to endure this for much longer.

" _Finite Incantatem!"_

Nothing. She tried again. " _Finite!"_

The magic used was clearly dark and Hermione's attempts at breaking the curse didn't work. She pulled out the token again and tightened her hand around it. It would send another message to the professors.

"Professor Vector," Hermione said, knowing that she still couldn't be seen. "It's Hermione Granger. I've called for help and one of the other professors will be here right away."

"Her-mione." The professor was barely able to force the words out. "Death Eaters." She took another raspy breath. "Five…six. East."

Death Eaters in Hogwarts. She felt fear grip her chest. Why were they here? She was glad Professor Vector couldn't see her horrified expression.

"Got it." Hermione looked up at the sound of more footfalls and breathed a sigh of relief and she saw the figure hurrying towards them. "Professor Flitwick is here. You're in good hands now." She squeezed the witch's shoulder and took off towards the east corridor.

She didn't know what to expect and she wasn't sure what she'd do when she found the Death Eaters. She wondered how they'd gotten into the castle. Despite her uncertainty during her conversation with Harry, she hadn't truly believed that they were strong enough to break through the old spells that guarded Hogwarts. Or perhaps, it was that she couldn't imagine it. She wondered where Professor Dumbledore was and if he knew there were Death Eaters roaming around Hogwarts. She wondered if Draco had anything to do with this. She hoped not.

She felt a chill envelope her and she knew the Disillusionment Charm was wearing off. She pinned herself against the wall and tried to compose her thoughts. This felt surreal, like being trapped in a very, very bad dream. She heard footsteps in the distance and hastily refreshed the charm. The end of the corridor was dark, and she couldn't make out the approaching figure, but she held her breath as the footsteps got louder. A dark-robed, hooded figure emerged, alone, and she cast a stunning spell before she could think twice. She watched as the body dropped onto the floor and when no partner emerged, she crept up to him and turned him over. She could have recognized that Death Eater mask anywhere.

" _Incarcerous!_ " Thin cords shot out of the tip of her wand and wrapped around his wrists, ankles and mouth. She debated taking his mask off, but decided to continue searching for the others. She clenched the token once again, revealing her location.

 _One down, five to go_ , she thought.

A loud thump emanated from further down the corridor, just as a flash of green flew past her ear. Hermione sprang to her feet and sprinted towards the source. The further she ventured, the darker it got, but she didn't dare expose herself by illuminating her way. She felt her foot catch on something on the ground and she stumbled, falling to the floor. She cursed in pain as she broke her fall awkwardly with her elbow. Rubbing it furiously, she turned around and felt around for what had tripped her. Her hands landed on something warm. A body. She exhaled sharply and pulled her hands back. There was no helping it.

" _Lumos!"_

She directed the light from her wand over the unconscious frame and sighed in relief to realize it was another Death Eater. But that meant that someone else was here.

"Harry?" she whispered into the darkness.

" _Finite Incantatem!"_

As soon as the spell was uttered, a strong hand grabbed her arm and another wrapped around her mouth from behind before she could protest. Her wand clattered to the ground. The scream in her throat died as recognition enveloped her. She allowed herself to be pulled into what she assumed was a broom closet.

"You're going to get us killed, Granger. Are you going to scream if I let you go?"

Hermione inhaled deeply to compose herself and shook her head. The hand around her mouth slowly lifted away, but he kept his grip firmly around her, his hand spanning her stomach, pulling her back into him. She heard him mutter an _Accio_ and watched out of the corner of her eye and he caught her wand and pocketed it. Her stomach twisted and she struggled to get out of his hold, to no avail.

"So you are a Death Eater." She spat out disgustedly.

"For once in your life, shut _up_ , Granger."

"Did you let them in here?"

Silence

"You're despicable, Malfoy."

"Shut. Up." He hissed, once again clamping his hand across her mouth. She heard two sets of footsteps run past them. She couldn't tell if they were friendly or not, and she didn't want to take a chance while her wand was in a Death Eater's pocket.

Once the footsteps subsided, Draco released her and spun her around. He grabbed her shoulders and even through the darkness, she could feel his eyes piercing into hers. "I need you to do me a favour, Granger."

He pulled out a small package, tiny enough to curl a fist around, and thrust it into her pocket. She tried to swat at his hand, unsuccessfully.

"Calm down, Granger. It's nothing… _dark_. I just need you to hold on to it for me until I get back."

"Get back?" She felt something inside of her somersault. It shouldn't have, but it did. "Where are you going?"

"I can't tell you."

"Then I won't hold on to whatever this is." She felt panic bubble up inside of her, less to do with the Death Eaters within Hogwarts and more to do with the fact that Draco seemed adamant about leaving and getting himself killed.

"Hermione." He spoke her name gently and it felt foreign coming out of his mouth. His hands were on her shoulders again and he rubbed light circles around them, calming, comforting. "I need you to do this for me. I can't tell you where I'm going, or what I'm going to do. But when this is all over, I'm coming back for it."

"But –"

"I have to go now. I'm sorry."

"Wait –"

Hermione didn't get a chance to finish that sentence, and in the next second found herself falling backwards onto the ground. He had Petrified her, the slimy little ferret! She watched helplessly and he dug around for something in her pockets and saw him pull out the token. He formed a fist around it quickly, and dropped it to the ground once their location had been transmitted. Her wand followed suit. He gave her one last thoughtful look. Apparently not content with just the Full-Body Bind spell, he muttered something else. Hermione felt her eyes grow heavy. She fought to keep them open, to watch him. Then he was gone.

* * *

Something was shaking. Was it the castle again? She kept running to –where? That's right. She had to return Draco's package to him. But if only this shaking would stop. Someone called out her name. It was loud and echoed through the large space she was in. It grew more and more insistent. Oh my goodness, could they just –

Hermione's eyes snapped open. It was just a dream. No one was calling her name. Where was she? Not Hogwarts, that was for sure. She struggled slightly to sit up in bed. She felt weak, extremely weak.

"Hermione!" someone squealed. "You're awake!" The noise resonated in her head and she had to close her eyes to control the painful throbbing. She opened her eyes to see a concerned Ginny Weasley peering at her.

"Ginny," she rasped, "where am I? Where are Harry and Ron?" She shot up, remembering. "The Death Eaters! At Hogwarts!"

"Shh, calm down, Hermione. Harry and Ron are fine. Ron stepped out to help mum with something, and Harry just had to use the men's room. You're at St. Mungo's."

"St. Mungo's? How long have I been here? Why am I _here_?"

"Hermione," Ginny said soothingly, "we'll tell you everything, but let me get you some water first. You sound parched."

She _felt_ parched.

She accepted the glass of water graciously from Ginny and gulped the water down quickly. Then she drank three more.

"The Healer mentioned you might be thirsty when you wake up."

"Thirsty is an understatement. I feel like I haven't drank any water in days."

"Well -" Ginny hesitated, "you haven't. Not really."

Alarm bells went off in Hermione's head. She suddenly felt much better, refreshed even.

"Ginny," she said, with a warning in her tone, "what happened to me? Please, tell me everything."

Ginny sighed. "I suppose knowing can't hurt you any more now than it will later. You've been unconscious for about ten days. When the Death Eaters infiltrated Hogwarts, one of them must have gotten you. Harry found you in a broom closet, unconscious. We had to bring you to St. Mungo's after –"

Ginny was cut off by the sound of a door opening. She smiled at the new arrival. "Harry! Hermione's awake!"

Hermione immediately felt a pair of arms around her, pulling her in. "Hermione," Harry whispered furiously, "we were so worried!" He released her and sat down by the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling much better, Harry. Ginny was just filling me in on what I missed and telling me why I had to be brought to St. Mungo's."

"Well, you were hexed. Something dark, by the sounds of it."

"Couldn't Madam Pomfrey have healed me?"

An uneasy silence fell across the room. Ginny looked at Harry, but Harry couldn't seem to meet either of their gazes.

"Hermione," Ginny's soothing voice, again. This wasn't good. "Hogwarts –isn't safe anymore. Professor Dumbledore –" her eyes welled up with tears and she swallowed.

"Professor Dumbledore is dead." Harry finished for Ginny, who now openly had tears running down her face. "Those Death Eaters got to him."

Hermione felt light-headed for a moment. "What?" she whispered, not realizing she was crying until she felt a tear roll down to her chin. "Who...?"

"We don't know. We only know the two you caught. They're in Azkaban now."

"So they sent all the students home," Ginny spoke again. "We had to bring you here. The Healer said you got rather lucky. The Death Eater must have used the wrong spell on you. All he did was put you into a deep sleep."

Hermione pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop the tears. This was overwhelming. Dumbledore was dead. Draco was a Death Eater but he had saved her from being killed, and he had hidden her. They couldn't go back to Hogwarts.

"Where are my things?" she asked suddenly.

"Erm, right here by the bed," Ginny opened up a drawer to show her where her clothes and wand were stored. Hermione lifted out her robes and felt through the pockets. She felt a little lump. Good, the package was still there.

"I'd like a moment of privacy to get dressed."

"Of course," Harry sprung to his feet and gave Ginny a pointed look to follow suit. They walked out of the room and shut the door behind them. As soon as she heard the door click shut, she rummaged through her robes until she found the package and pulled it out. She unraveled the string around it and unwrapped it from the brown paper. Something small, but heavy dropped into her hand.

A ring?

She gingerly lifted her palm to her hand. It was an expensive looking men's ring, bearing the Malfoy crest. The serpentine creatures on the crest all bore tiny green jewels for eyes. Considering the Malfoys, Hermione would not have been surprised to find out that they were emeralds.

"He left me with his family ring?" Hermione whispered in confusion. She wrapped her fingers around it, nonetheless. It felt surprisingly warm to the touch. She debated telling Harry about her encounter with her last encounter with Draco. She wondered if he killed Professor Dumbledore. She had so many questions, but the biggest one in her mind was –

 _Why do I still trust him?_

Maybe it was out of a sense of obligation, because he had saved her life. Just a regular old case of Stockholm Syndrome.

Or maybe it was something else.

Dressed in her own clothes, she slipped the ring back into her pocket. She would get a chain for it and wear it around her neck, she decided. It was the easiest way to guarantee its safety. She walked out of the hospital room and found Harry and Ginny sitting not to far away. Harry was slumped over in his chair, holding his head in his hands. Ginny was running her hand comfortingly along his back.

"Harry."

He looked up at her.

"I just want you to know, that whatever you decide to do now, I'm going to do it with you. If you're going to look for the remaining Horcruxes, I'm coming with you."

"Hermione, but –" Harry started, but she cut him off.

"No, Harry. I've made up my mind. I'm going with you. Let's do this together."

She dropped to her knees and clasped his hand and looked into his eyes with unwavering determination. "I will help you defeat Voldemort, if it's the last thing I do."

* * *

 **A/N: I just want you all to know that I really dislike having to write about war and fighting all that, so this is not going to continue into some war story. Thank you to all of those who followed, favourited and reviewed this story!**

 **I'd love to hear your thoughts in the reviews! See you all next chapter xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 _Four years later..._

"No!"

Hermione shot up in bed, her hand around her neck, gasping for air. Her body was drenched in sweat and her t-shirt clung uncomfortably to her skin. She had had another bad dream, although 'bad dream' was perhaps putting it too lightly.

It had been two years since Voldemort had fallen, and just over a year since all Death Eater activity had been extinguished completely…or at least, to the best of their knowledge. Most of the Death Eaters were now sentenced to life in Azkaban, or locked up while awaiting trial. That didn't account for the ones who had fled the country, but it was a better outcome than they had hoped for.

Soon after the Final Battle, Hermione had started to have nightmares. They ranged from recollections of real experiences during the war to the fearful manifestations of an overactive imagination. As terrifying as those dreams had been while she lived through them in her sleep, she had always been able to push past them in her waking hours –she had realized that they were bad dreams and nothing more. She was self-aware enough to know that they were her subconscious' way of processing everything she had been through and her basic survival instinct was still on overdrive, expecting an attack at any second. With time, the frequency of those nightmares subsided.

Over the last few months, however, there had been one recurring dream that caused her many sleepless nights. It wasn't as horrifying in nature as the ones in her past, but there was something about it -a very real quality –that was frightening. If Hermione weren't so skeptical about divination, she may have considered it to be a vision of some sort.

The dream was always the same.

 _She was back at Hogwarts, running towards the library. There was something there that she needed in order to escape. She didn't know what, and she didn't know how it would help her, she just knew that she needed it. The school was deserted and she knew she was the only person there. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she ran through the hallways and it set her on edge. No matter how much she tried to silence herself, the echoes got louder. Just as she approached the library, Death Eaters appeared, sometimes a handful, sometimes in throngs. She reached for her wand, only to find it missing._

 _One of Death Eaters fired ropes out of his wand and she found herself suspended in the air, spread-eagled and defenceless against their attacks. They hit her with the Cruciatus Curse and tortured her for what seemed like an eternity. Then, when they were sure they had completely broken her, one of the Death Eaters emerged from the crowd. It was always the same person, this much she could tell. He always had his hood pulled low over his face and she barely made out the glint of his mask in the dim light. He stretched out his hand, covered by a glove, and gestured in a beckoning motion._

 _And then she felt it. An insistent tugging against her neck, a burning sensation. She realized that it was the ring. She saw tendrils of smoke appear as it burned through her clothes and move forward on its own volition towards the Death Eater's outstretched palm. Not able to offer much resistance, Hermione did the best she could and pulled her head back, against the force of the ring._

" _Give it to me_ now _!" the Death Eater snarled._

Hermione knew she needed the ring. It didn't belong to her, but in the dream, it was the key to the end, along with whatever was in the library. The strong tugging sensation would wake her up every time, and she never knew the end to the nightmare, the significance of the ring, who the Death Eater was or what awaited her in the library.

Habitually, her hand went to the ring nestled under her t-shirt. As always, it was warm to the touch. She sighed in relief. She hadn't taken it off in the past four years. She no longer knew why she still bothered to wear it. In the first few months of receiving it, it symbolized her connection with Draco. But as the war progressed, as she continued to experience unspeakable horrors at the hands of the Dark side, as the continued to learn about the gruesome inclinations of the Death Eaters and what Draco had _chosen_ to be a part of, the connection had dwindled to a faint memory. She had no reason to wear it. She had once acted on this feeling and taken it off for a day. Oddly enough, she found that she had never felt more naked and exposed in her life. Coincidentally, she had also been grievously injured in battle that day and lost her ability to speak for the next three days. She chalked it down to superstition, but she hadn't taken it off since.

She sighed and pushed her damp curls away from her face. Would she be able to get any more sleep? She fell back onto the bed, closed her eyes and waited. It only took her a few moments to realize the futility of the exercise. She rolled out of bed and padded down to the kitchen.

"Nightmares again?"

"Oh Merlin!" Hermione started, hand on her chest. "Ginny! What are you doing up so early?"

She was temporarily sharing her flat with Ginny, who had had yet another argument with Harry and needed some space.

Ginny shrugged. "Didn't get the best sleep tonight, myself. I figured I'd make a pot of tea."

Hermione dropped into a chair around the kitchen table and rested her chin in her hands. "Bad dreams?"

"Yeah. But nothing like yours." Ginny pointed out quickly. She was the only one to whom Hermione had eventually confided in about her feelings for Draco at Hogwarts, the ring and later, the dream. It had been in a moment of loneliness and innate need for human connection, at one of the safe houses they had shared during the war. To say that Ginny had been surprised would be an understatement, but in true Ginny fashion, she had handled it well and been a supportive friend.

"What did you dream about?"

Ginny reddened and quickly muttered, "That I was being chased by a cauldron."

Hermione stared at Ginny for a moment and then burst out laughing. " _What?_ "

"Yeah, well, I did say it was nothing like yours!" Ginny huffed and poured tea into two mugs. She set a mug in front of Hermione. "So? What's your day looking like?"

Hermione scrunched up her nose as she mentally ran through her schedule. "I have a morning meeting with Derek, then I'm meeting with an Italian diplomat, I'm seeing er –" Hermione paused and looked at Ginny apologetically, "-Harry for lunch, an afternoon brainstorming session, and Merlin, I don't even want to think about it." She sighed. "I really wish I could get a transfer to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

Ginny laughed softly. "And what? The Department of International Magical Cooperation would lose their best employee? You really think they'd be willing to lose what essentially is the face of their operations?"

"Oh, please, I'm hardly the face of anything!"

"'Mione, you know as well as I do, they love having you, not only because you're amazing at what you do but also because it helps that you're _The_ Hermione Granger."

Hermione did know. As soon as she had applied to the Ministry of Magic, she had been picked up by the D.I.M.C. Never mind that she had specifically applied to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Derek, her boss, never squandered an opportunity to use her presence to sway the room in his favour. Granted, politics aside, the work was interesting but it wasn't _enough_ for Hermione. She wasn't fulfilled. Harry and Ron successfully joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as Aurors and Ginny had gotten into the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They loved their jobs. She couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

"Well, I'm sure they'll get bored of me at some point. I hope. Will you be doing anything interesting? Meeting more Quidditch players, perhaps?"

"I'd be so lucky. But no, it'll be a paperwork day for me today."

"Hmm." She sipped her tea. "Gin, I don't mean to intrude, but how are things with you and Harry? You've been here for a few days now and I love having you here, but I hate feeling torn between the two of you."

Ginny grimaced. "You really don't have to feel that way, 'Mione. Harry and I –we've been talking things through. We'll be seeing each other after work to hash things out some more."

"That's good to hear."

"Hmm."

They sighed in unison. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Hermione! Good morning!" Derek greeted her cheerfully as she entered his office. Too cheerfully, she thought. If there was one thing she had learned about Derek, it was that he only turned on his charm when he needed something. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she took a seat at his desk and set down files that needed to be reviewed.

"Good morning, Derek. What's gotten you so chipper today?"

"Me? I'm always chipper!"

"No, you're not."

"Of course I am!" He gestured expansively with his arms and stood up to walk around his desk over to her. "And we also have a very important meeting today. Well –" he corrected himself, "you do, at least."

"I do?" Hermione frowned and ran through her schedule mentally. She couldn't come up with anything out of the ordinary –nothing that would warrant this much excitement on her boss' part. "I don't recall having anything scheduled."

He waved his hand dismissively. "This is a last minute –"

" _Last minute_? Derek, our external meetings are booked weeks in advance, in some case _months_! Since when do we have _last minute_ anything?"

"This one is a little more…special. A sensitive case. We need to keep it low profile."

"So why am I being assigned to it?"

"You were specifically requested."

"What? By whom?"

Derek ignored her question and glanced down at his watch. "It's almost time. Come on. Let's walk and talk."

He ushered her up and out of his office.

"Derek, who are we meeting with?" Hermione asked again, almost running to keep up with his long strides.

"The Auror Department. There is a certain individual we need to reintegrate into society and you're the best person for the job." He responded pithily as he punched the floor number in the lift.

" _What_? Derek, none of this makes any sense."

Apparently her distress didn't warrant an explanation, because he didn't provide one. In fact, he didn't say another word to her until they approached the door to the meeting room.

"So much for walking and talking," she grumbled under her breath.

He held the door open for her and gestured for her to go through. "After you."

"Said the spider to the fly, Derek."

She walked into the brightly lit room and took a seat around the conference table.

"They should be here any minute, Hermione," Derek informed her as he checked his watch again. "I'd best be getting back to my office."

"You're not _staying_?" Hermione all but shrieked. What sort of madness was this?

"No can do, Granger. Good luck!" He gave her a small wave and disappeared, closing the door behind him.

 _Good luck?!_

She bit her lip nervously and looked around the room. Nothing had been set up and there was no sign of what was to come. She couldn't tell how much time had passed before she heard the door open again. She looked up and saw Harry walk in with Gawain Robards, the Head of the Auror Department. She smiled warmly at the two, having worked with Robards during the war. She noticed that Harry couldn't quite return her smile. Or look her in the eye.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Hopefully you can shed some light on why I'm here. Derek was being quite mysterious." Hermione said, her cheery voice masking the rising panic.

"Sure can, Granger," Robards responded gruffly. "Don't mind Derek. We requested that he not divulge too much. To be honest, he doesn't know the full details himself. Confidential stuff, you see?"

Hermione most certainly did not see, but she waited until the two were seated before continuing.

"What exactly are we dealing with?"

Harry cleared his throat. "How much did Derek tell you?"

"Barely anything. Just that there is a _certain individual_ who needs to be reintegrated into society? I'm not sure how exactly the D.I.M.C. is involved in something like this. It's not exactly our domain."

"Right." Harry took in a deep breath, seeming to prepare himself. "Well. This _individual_ is a British national, and played a significant role in the war. He helped more so with the rounding up of Death Eaters overseas. He infiltrated their ranks early on and not only was he able to provide us with some crucial tips during the war, he also was able to give us names and locations after Voldemort's death to prevent potential uprisings."

Hermione's brows knitted. This was the first time she had ever heard of anything like this. The only spy she knew of within Voldemort's ranks was Snape –and he had died during the war.

"So," she began slowly, "we had a double agent during the war. A second double agent. Did you know about this, Harry?"

Harry visibly recoiled at her accusatory glare. "Not until very recently. He was very selective about who he would communicate with. Everything flowed through Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Yes."

"If he's been so helpful to our cause then why does he need help with reintegration? And even if he does, why does the Department of International Magical Cooperation need to be involved?"

It was Robards who answered this time. "He went a little too deep. He was captured by the Bulgarian Magical Law Enforcement. Shacklebolt got wind of it and negotiated a prisoner exchange."

"And that's where I come in." Hermione stated.

"Yes, but there's more," Robards answered. "After we had verified his stories, we could hardly let him rot in Bulgarian prison –it's rumoured to be worse than Azkaban. We negotiated a deal. While we finalize the Bulgarian prisoner to be released, our agent will be returned to our care. Specifically, your care."

Hermione swallowed and asked them to clarify what they meant. Because it sounded like they meant that –

"-he'll be living with you."

" _What?_ " This time Hermione did shriek. It couldn't be helped. The entire Ministry must have been out of their minds to come to this decision. "No! No, no, no, it's not happening!"

Robards and Harry started to speak at the same time.

"Granger, there's no need for –"

"Hermione, please calm down, I'm –"

"No, there is definitely a need for this and I will _not_ calm down! Do you understand what you're asking me to do? And that begs the question that no one seems to want to respond – _why me_? Why not Harry? Or Ron? Or put him up at the Leaky Cauldron! For Merlin's sakes, this is preposterous! I don't even know who we're dealing with!"

"Granger," Robards sighed. It was almost comical to see the typically brusque man appear so placating. "It's Draco Malfoy."

Hermione blinked.

"Absolutely not."

Without waiting for a reaction from either men, Hermione walked out of the room.

* * *

Hermione did not return to work that day. After she walked out on the meeting with Harry and Robards, she went straight to the nearest fireplace she could find and Floo'd home. With Ginny at work, the flat was empty and provided the perfect atmosphere for Hermione to think.

Except, that she couldn't think. Her mind was blank. Nothing made sense. She never knew what happened to Draco during the war and after a while, she stopped wondering. The possibilities made her feel too sad. But never in a million lifetimes would she had predicted this. She felt dazed and confused.

That was how Harry found her a few hours later.

"Hello, Hermione, are you there?" she heard his voice emanating from the fireplace.

She didn't want to do this over Floo. "I am, Harry. Can you come by so we can talk in person?"

"Sure, give me a second."

She heard a faint _pop_ as he pulled his head back and a minute later he walked out of the fireplace, dusting soot off his robes.

"Harry, what the _hell_ was that about?"

He sighed and guided her to the sofa. "'Mione, I'm sorry. I really am. I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but I couldn't. I had _no idea_ that he'd specifically ask to stay with you."

"He _specifically asked?_ "

"Apparently."

"And you were okay with it?"

"Of course _not_! I boycotted the idea immediately!"

Hermione softened slightly at his immediate indignation. "Why did Robards agree to this? Malfoy and I didn't exactly get along in Hogwarts. And who knows how the war may have changed him? He could be dangerous, Harry."

"I know, I know. Robards faced a lot of pressure from Shacklebolt. He needs to be under constant supervision until the Bulgarian prisoner is released. Malfoy and I –there's too much history there. I know that he helped us in the war, but I just –" he tugged at a lock of his hair in frustration "-can't forget what a smarmy git he was back at Hogwarts, y'know? That's how I remember him. I don't think I'd be able to give him a fair shot. It'd be even worse with Ron. And we can't exactly send him to any of his Pureblood friends. I'm not sure that he has any left…outside of Azkaban. We can't exactly release him into Narcissa's care either. So when he asked that it be with you, it made sense in a twisted way. You'd be the only fair, impartial person. The Bulgarian authorities actually agreed with him that it should be you."

Hermione made a sound that was between a choke and a sob. Fair and impartial. If only Harry knew.

"But why wasn't I consulted? I don't want him here, Harry. It's a small flat and I wouldn't feel safe."

"Right, well about that, I have good news and bad news."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Give me the bad news. What could be worse than this?"

"The bad news is that there's no getting out of this for you. Considering that this is a Malfoy we're dealing with, clearing his name won't be easy. It'll be hard to convince the public that he wasn't really a Death Eater, especially since Lucius was so high up in Voldermort's inner circle. Hell, I'm not fully convinced myself and I questioned him under Veritaserum. _And_ we got some of his memories." Harry shook his head disbelievingly. "With you being assigned to keep an eye on him, we'll be killing two birds with one stone. Comply with the Bulgarian's requirements in releasing him early and show the public that he's been –accepted –so to speak, by you, and by association, Ron and I."

"What's the good news?" Hermione asked, although she couldn't think of one silver lining to this situation.

"Robards and I had a conversation after you left. I think you shook him a bit with your reaction. We've imposed a firm deadline of maximum two weeks to sort out the Bulgarian prisoner release, so you won't have to watch him for longer than that. Secondly, you won't have to share your living space with him. We're thinking of repurposing one of the old safe houses."

"Great. So now I get to live with a potentially deranged lunatic in a secret safe house. Perfect. How was that good news?" Hermione couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She didn't want to take her aggravation out on Harry, she knew he was just the messenger.

"I _am_ sorry, 'Mione."

She knew he was. "Is there any chance at all that I can say no?"

He exhaled heavily. "Yes. But not really."

"Right. When are they letting him out?"

"Next week."

"Right."

A week was enough time to change her appearance, identity, flee the country and start a new life, Hermione thought despondently.

* * *

 **A/N: First of all, a great, big THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to read this story and review. To everyone who favourited and followed the story, I'm happy you've decided to take this journey with me :) I had mentioned in my previous author's note that this wouldn't be a war story, but I hope this skip in time isn't _too_ drastic (it probably is, but still). I wasn't really planning on making it HBP compliant or DH compliant, so Dumbledore's death is the only commonality. We'll learn more about Draco's part in the war as we get further into the story.**

 **Speaking of, I really hated that there were no D/Hr moments in this chapter. So rest assured, we'll definitely be seeing Draco in the next chapter. Let me know what you think, I really do enjoy hearing your thoughts and interpretations in the reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sunlight filtered through a crack between the curtains, waking Hermione up. Her eyes opened groggily and she felt a heavy weight in her chest. She knew what lay ahead of her and she didn't want to face it. She could hear Ginny puttering around in the kitchen and a quick check of her watch confirmed that she had slept for longer than usual. She had gone to bed the previous night with a sense of dread, but had miraculously slept very well. No nightmares, at least.

With a sigh, she got out of bed and walked into the kitchen. Ginny greeted her cheerfully with a cup of tea, which she accepted gratefully.

"How are you doing, 'Mione?" Ginny asked as they both settled down in the living room.

Hermione shrugged, feigning indifference. "I'm ready to have these two weeks done and over with. Thank you, by the way, for watching the flat."

Ginny waved away her gratitude. "Don't mention it. Least I could do."

"Harry is always welcome here, you know that."

"Hermione. He's just a fireplace away. You've got bigger things to worry about."

"You're right. Like living with a Death Eater."

"Hermione –"

"Yes, I know. He's not a Death Eater, he helped our side." Hermione cut in bitterly. "This just isn't the ideal solution for me, and I hate that I'm being forced into it."

Ginny made a small sound of agreement. "We're not too happy about it either. Harry told me that Ron blew his top when he heard. He sent Harry a Howler at work. Harry was in the middle of an Auror meeting when it arrived. Robards had to set it on fire, it went on for that long."

Ron was currently in Romania on an assignment. He had written to Hermione several times over the past week, advising her to, in no uncertain terms, tell Robards where to shove it. This was the one instance where Hermione had been very tempted to follow Ron's advice.

"If there's anything I can do to help, 'Mione, anything you need while you're there...just know you can count on me. Even if it's just to talk." Ginny gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her shoulder. She knew what Ginny meant. They hadn't explicitly talked about her history with Draco and Hermione hadn't been too keen on dredging up those old feelings, but she knew she could lean on Ginny if things got unbearable.

"Thanks, Gin," she murmured.

Draining her cup of tea, she proceeded to clean up and got dressed as slowly as she could. When she had utterly run out of excuses to dawdle, she gave Ginny a hug and Floo'd to the Ministry.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was waiting for her at her office when she arrived.

He gave her a small smile upon spotting her. "Thought you might have decided to flee the country."

"The thought may have crossed my mind." Hermione acknowledged tartly. She normally got along extremely well with Kingsley, but she just couldn't seem to muster up the will to be pleasant to the Minister of Magic today. "Shall we get going, then?"

"Yes, but I hoped we could have a quick chat first." Kingsley gestured for her to take a seat. "I know you have had some…reservations with this task."

"And you would know exactly what my reservations are, Minister Shacklebolt, had you bothered to accept any of my meeting requests this week." Hermione retorted scathingly.

Kingsley had the decency to look shamed at her words. "It has been a hectic week, Hermione, but I agree that I should have brought you in on this earlier. That being said, I just want to assure you of one thing. No harm will come to you over the next few weeks. As per the Bulgarians' request, we have set a perimeter around the safe house and Malfoy will not be able to set foot out of that perimeter without you by his side, or someone from the Auror Department. You, however, can come and go freely. I urge you, Hermione, to not treat him like an enemy. He has helped us more in this war than you will ever know."

"Then why not let me find out?" she asked doggedly. It was partially the reason she'd tried to meet with him over the course of the week -she'd been hoping to get some insight into what Draco _had_ done to help. "Give me access to his files."

"Hermione, those files are sealed. We can't break the magic on them." Kingsley responded with resignation.

"Kingsley, I hope you understand the magnitude of what you're asking from me. Blind faith with no proof."

Kingsley sighed. "I'll try and get something to you."

He stood up and offered his arm. "Ready?"

"No," she answered, but she took his arm anyway. He pulled out what she assumed was a Portkey and with a tugging sensation, she was gone.

* * *

The safe house they had chosen was in the countryside. She had always thought this was one of the nicer ones and had enjoyed her time here –as much as one could enjoy being in a safe house with a war raging on. It had sparse furnishings, nothing past the basics, but it was inviting. From the outside, it looked like a quaint little cottage set against a backdrop of rolling hills and greenery. There were some muggle cottages in the distance, but the safe house was enchanted to the eyes of anyone non-magical. They would see a dilapidated, crumbling structure surrounded by yards of wired fencing and a 'Demolition Scheduled' sign. The Portkey had transported her right to the doorstep. She opened the door gingerly and stepped inside, unsure of what to expect. It was empty. They hadn't brought Draco in yet. Perfect. That gave her time to set up wards around her own bedroom.

She trudged up the stairs and located the bedroom closest to the stairs. Easier to escape, she thought. Giving the room a quick once-over to ensure it didn't need any repairs, she pulled out her wand and uttered a few charms. It wasn't that she was scared of Draco, per se, she was more apprehensive of the unknown. He may have helped them during the war, but he still had to partake in Death Eater activities. Those were dangerous acts in themselves.

Once she was satisfied with her bedroom, she went back down to the kitchen to check on supplies. The Ministry had kept them well-stocked, to her dismay. Now she couldn't leave under the pretext of grocery shopping. She wandered around the house aimlessly, tinkering with things she thought could use improvement, until she heard the front door open again.

Despite the sudden rush of blood to her head, she forced herself to remain composed as she walked out to the foyer to receive the newcomers.

Kingsley walked in first, followed by _him_.

Their eyes locked over Kingsley's shoulders. They were like steel, slicing through her. A chill ran over her and she shivered involuntarily, hoping that neither wizard noticed. Her emotions were wreaking havoc in a way she hadn't expected. Not after everything that had happened, after everything she believed him to be. It took her a moment to realise that Kingsley was speaking. She schooled her features into what she hoped was a blank expression.

"-give him a tour of the place and then we can discuss what needs to be done. Hermione, if we may."

Hermione blushed and jumped aside, realizing that she had been blocking their path. "Of course."

Draco followed Kingsley through the hallway, not sparing her another glance. In fact, aside from meeting her eyes through the doorway, he gave no other indication of acknowledging her presence at all. She watched his back as he walked away. He seemed taller, standing a few inches over Kingsley, and had grown into himself. She waited until they had moved upstairs to run into the kitchen and pour herself a glass of water. Her hands gripped the counter. She had avoided thinking about this moment -of what she would do, or what he would do, or how she would react upon seeing him –precisely because in every conceivable scenario, it was an awkward situation. And reality didn't disappoint her –it was as awkward as she had expected it to be. There were too many old feelings, too many memories that only they had knowledge of. A lot of embarrassment on Hermione's part. Her fingers drifted down to the ring. Would he remember it? Would he want it back? She had grown oddly attached to it.

She turned as she heard them enter the kitchen.

"Did you find everything satisfactory?" she asked as pleasantly as she could.

Draco nodded wordlessly, his eyes focused somewhere around her chest. She belatedly remembered that her fingers were still holding the ring and she rapidly shoved it back under her blouse. A ghost of a smile seemed to flit across his face –it was so brief, she couldn't be sure.

Great. Now he _definitely_ remembered the ring and would want it back.

She took a seat around the small table, joining the two men.

"Right," Kingsley began, "so you'll be here for about two weeks, maybe a little less. We're completing the paperwork for the Bulgarian prisoner. In the meantime, we're going to have a press release about Draco's involvement in the war. It's going out tomorrow. It won't be detailed –the Daily Prophet will come to you for the details, Malfoy, and you'll have the chance to reveal as much, or as little, as you'd like to. You can keep a low-profile for the next few days, if you'd like, but there are some engagements you should be a part of."

A pale eyebrow lifted and Kingsley hurried to continue, "Perhaps be seen about Diagon Alley with Hermione. And there is a lunch scheduled with you and Harry. Not to mention, you have to settle some matters with your estate. If there's anything you'd like in the meantime, you can owl me."

"With what owl?" Draco spoke for the first time since arriving. The deep timbre of his voice sent an unwanted shiver down her spine.

"We've made arrangements to have your owl sent here from the Manor. I believe Narcissa should be sending him some time today. Hermione, as you know, Derek is not expecting you to be at the Ministry for the next two weeks so whether or not you go in to work is up to you. Malfoy is not under house-arrest in our eyes, by any means –this is a formality, more than anything –so you don't have to spend all your time here. You can do with your days as you wish, but remember that Draco cannot travel out of here on his own."

Her assignment was to be a glorified babysitter. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. So much for being the brightest witch of their age.

"Any questions before I leave?" Kingsley stood up..

Neither of them responded.

"No? I'll take my leave then."

Hermione walked him to the door and waited as he gathered his coat and hat.

"Kingsley, I'm not sure –" she broke off. She didn't want to be here and they knew this. She had said it over and over, there was really no point in expressing it again. She shook her head and smiled. "I'll Floo you if I need anything."

Kingsley nodded with a look of understanding in his eyes. "Thank you, Hermione." His voice lowered and he added, "I'll get you something from his files, to set your mind at ease."

She gave him a final nod as he headed out the door to the Apparition point and disappeared, leaving her alone with Draco Malfoy in the middle of nowhere. Joy. She headed back into the kitchen with trepidation and found that Draco hadn't budged from his spot. His wand was laid out on the table.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, breaking the cloying silence and moving hurriedly to the counter.

"How polite of you, Granger," he drawled, his eyes following her fidgety movements around the kitchen. "But no, thank you."

She set the kettle on the stove and reluctantly looked at him. "Don't you know it's rude to stare, Malfoy?"

"That didn't seem to stop you at Hogwarts, if I recall correctly." He chuckled mirthlessly as she reddened. "Come on, Granger. Spit it out. I can see the questions all over your face."

"What questions?"

"All the ones floating around in your head about me being a big, bad Death Eater."

Hermione huffed. "I'm not sure I'd believe anything you'd say anyway, Malfoy, so I'm not sure there's any point in asking."

She took her first good look at his face then. It didn't look gaunt or tired, as she would have expected from someone in prison. He looked _better_ than she remembered, which Hermione found maddening. The only sign that he hadn't kept up his personal grooming appointments in Bulgaria was his slightly-too-long hair and hint of stubble.

"You're calling me a liar?" The question was deceptively light.

"No, it's just that I don't trust you. I can't."

"So you think this story about me being a spy for the Order is a huge, elaborate hoax?"

"I don't know what to think."

"Why not?"

She was saved from having to answer by the shrill whistle of the kettle. As she turned around to attend to it, he walked over to her.

"You've trusted me enough to wear my ring." His eyes were back at her chest, where the ring lay heavily. "Have you worn it the entire time?"

"Yes," she murmured.

"Why?" His voice was soft now.

"I didn't want to lose it." Her answer sounded weak to her own ears.

"Bollocks. Do you feel safe wearing it? Protected?" He correctly interpreted her silence as an affirmation. "Do you know why, Granger?"

She shook her head slowly, but could guess what he would say next. Her stomach dropped and her mind raced through different possibilities of enchantments. How could she have been so stupid as to accept it from him? And to wear it around her neck at all times, to boot.

"The enchantment on this ring is old. It's a protection spell designed to protect the wearer and guide them." He stepped closer to her and she inadvertently breathed in deeply, remembering the last time they had been this close. The closet, when he had given her the ring.

His finger suddenly trailed down her cheek, causing her eyes to widen. He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and continued down her neck to where her chain rested. He gently pulled the chain and revealed the ring from under her blouse. Grasping the ring between his fingers, he twirled it around slowly causing the stones to glint. "This is probably the first time the wearer has been anyone other than a Malfoy," he murmured thoughtfully, more to himself than to her. "I wasn't certain the charm would work. But here you are, standing in front of me with unspoken accusations in your head, so I guess it did the trick."

His eyes held some kind of emotion that Hermione refused to define. She could see his jaw ticking.

"Why didn't you keep the ring? Why did you give it to me?" she whispered.

"Where I was going, it wouldn't help me."

"Draco…" she murmured softly, her heart suddenly aching for him, for the lost time, for everything. Her hand lightly clasped his wrist. At hearing his name, his face reflected a momentary look of surprise that was quickly replaced with a neutral expression.

"Didn't know we were on a first-name basis, Granger." He gave a sharp tug and the necklace came off, the ring with it. "I need this back now. I'll send you a new necklace –I seem to have broken this one."

She gasped and her hand flew to her neck.

"You're going to feel discomfort for the first few days, Granger," he stated, noting her reaction. "Exposed, unprotected. It's part of the enchantment. You'll be fine after that."

He pocketed the ring and made for the door. She called out to him just as he reached the doorway.

"You never told me why you gave it to me."

He shrugged at her before turning away. "You're a smart witch. You'll figure it out, eventually."

* * *

 **A/N: And now we know about the ring! Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter -and do leave a review with your thoughts so I can enjoy hearing feedback from you all!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Hermione muttered under her breath when she heard what had to be the _sixth_ owl tap on the window. Kingsley had said that Narcissa would be sending Draco an owl, but six? That was too bloody much. What was she sending him, anyway? It wasn't as though he was planning on living the rest of his life in this safe house.

She turned her attention back to the parchment in front of her. She was drafting a proposal for the improvement of trade relations between Britain and France. It wasn't the most interesting task, but it required all her focus. After her brief conversation with Draco earlier, she had needed something to distract her. She didn't particularly want to go down the rabbit-hole that was deciphering the meaning behind Draco's words…and actions. She'd done enough of that back at Hogwarts and all it had led to was more confusion.

 _No._

Pushing it all out of her mind, she had decided to stop by the Ministry. She had intended on staying there and working the rest of the day, as usual. After all, Kingsley _had_ said that that was an option. Within the hour, guilt had kicked in. What if Draco needed something? He wasn't able to leave the house without her. Her absence was effectively holding him captive in the house. She had cursed her conscience and Kingsley Shacklebolt for _knowing_ her well enough to predict her reactions, and Floo'd back to the safe house, bringing some work along with her. If she had expected Draco to be awaiting her return like a lost, helpless puppy, she was sorely disappointed. He appeared to be in his bedroom, with the door closed, (he had chosen the one at the end of the hallway –farthest from her own) and did not emerge for the rest of the day. Ever so often, she heard footsteps and of course, the owls tapping against the window.

Her stomach growled as a reminder that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Setting her quill down, she ventured into the kitchen and examined the ingredients available to her.

 _Spaghetti it is_ , she decided, and pulled out her wand before thinking the better of it. Doing it the muggle way would at least help her pass some time. Humming softly, she got to work. It was as she plated the meal that it crossed her mind to offer some to Draco. She wasn't sure what he would have eaten all day, and he didn't seem like the type to cook for himself.

She made her way to his bedroom and stopped in front of the closed door, taking a moment to brace herself before knocking sharply. A slightly dishevelled Draco opened the door, looking irritated. He had shunned his robes and wore only a dark pair of slacks and a half-buttoned shirt. Hermione firmly kept her eyes planted on his face and away from the smooth expanse of skin currently on show.

"Yes?" he bit out.

"I've made dinner. Would you like some? It's spaghetti."

"I'll come and get some after I shower," he responded, seeming slightly taken aback at her offer.

Hermione nodded and headed back downstairs. There. She'd done her duty and offered. Whether he would indeed help himself was up to him.

 _Now,_ shut up _, conscience!_

She ate quickly and returned to working until she felt her eyes grow heavy. Stretching her arms above her head, she noted that Draco hadn't come down for dinner.

"Whatever," she mumbled, heading upstairs and into the bathroom to clean up before bed.

As fatigued as she was from the events of the day, she didn't hear the sound of running water, nor did she notice the slightly steamy state of the room.

"I didn't know that you still wanted to see me naked this badly, Granger." A familiar drawl emanated from the shower in the corner.

Hermione yelped and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, I didn't think you'd be in here!"

"Why not?" She heard the shower turn off. She didn't know how she hadn't heard it before. "I did say I was going to shower."

"That was ages ago, Malfoy. Why didn't you lock the door?"

"I got caught up. I didn't think you were going to barge in on me."

"I wasn't intending on it, obviously. I just didn't hear the water running." Hermione backed towards the bathroom door, keeping her eyes tightly shut. Her back hit the closed door and she fumbled for the doorknob.

"Since you're in here, mind passing me my towel?"

"My eyes are closed. I don't know where your towel is."

She heard a light chuckle. "It's hanging to your right, Granger."

She felt around blindly until her hand came into contact with the fluffy material. "Here it is," she announced, holding the towel out.

"I can't reach it from here. You'll have to bring it to me. I don't want to drip all over the floor." Amusement strongly laced his voice. Of course the slimy git would be entertained by this.

"I _can't_ , Malfoy," Hermione gritted out, "I'm trying to protect your modesty."

That earned a proper laugh from Draco. Hermione nearly opened her eyes to witness the near-miracle. She had never heard him _really_ laugh around her. It was usually exasperated sighs or scoffing and the like. He had a very pleasant laugh, she decided.

"I'm not that modest, Granger," he quipped, his voice very close to her ear. She jerked in surprised, not realizing how quickly and stealthily he had moved to her. She felt him take the towel from her still outstretched hand. "You can open your eyes now, I'm modest."

She swallowed, hard. She could _feel_ him towering over her. She wasn't sure she could face him in this state of undress. "I don't want to."

"Why not?" Draco whispered. His lips were at her ear now and his warm breath across her neck made her shiver.

"I –just –why are you doing this?" she asked finally, unable to provide an articulate response.

"Again, why not?" His finger skimmed along her face, much like he had done to her earlier in the kitchen, making its way down her cheek and down the slender column of her neck. He traced where the necklace used to be, as though he knew. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Yes," she breathed out.

"Why?"

"You're too close."

"Did you miss me, Granger?"

Her eyes flew open then and she grabbed his wrist to stop the explorations of his finger. Her neck and collarbone tingled. She would have probably been more enthralled by his half-naked body, had it not been for the indignation coursing through her veins.

"I'm not seventeen anymore, Malfoy, I'm not interested in your games."

Draco's expression darkened at her words, spoken so stiffly, and his hand fell away. "Tell me something, Granger," he said frostily, "are you this dense about everything, or is it just where I'm concerned?" He scoffed when she didn't respond. "I suppose it's true –you can take the girl out of the castle, but you can't take the princess out of the girl."

He pushed past her and opened the door to leave.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked sharply.

"It means that you are as self-absorbed now as you were back at Hogwarts."

He left before she could utter another word.

* * *

Draco and Hermione did not speak over the next two days. The few times that they crossed paths in the kitchen, he diligently ignored her. Hermione wasn't sure how to break the silence, or if she even wanted to, considering that every conversation that they had had so far had left her near-reeling. So she went about her days, alternating between going to work for a few hours and bringing work back to the safe house. The day after Draco had arrived, the Daily Prophet had run their story on his return.

" _THE UNSUNG HERO OF THE WIZARDING WORLD: DRACO MALFOY"_

The massively-printed headline splashed across the front page of the newsprint had caused Hermione to shake her head in disgust. It had come as no surprise to her that the sensationalist story had been penned by the one and only Rita Skeeter. Although the article spoke about Draco's involvement in the war and his role as a spy from within the highest ranks of Death Eaters, it was largely fluffed up with information about Draco from his youth and his family's involvement in the war. There were some comments from Kingsley to provide validation to the claim, but overall, Hermione hadn't found it particularly revealing, beyond what she already knew.

Draco, it appeared, had chosen to not speak to the Daily Prophet directly yet. Kingsley had shown up to the safe house the next day to accompany him to the Malfoy Manor to see Narcissa. It would have rubbed Hermione the wrong way -after all, she _was_ the one stuck in this house with him as per _his_ request –had it not been for the fact that she had no interest in being anywhere near the Malfoy Manor. She had used the opportunity to take a break and return to her own flat for a while, which had been a great idea in theory, but had turned out to be rather awkward. As soon as she stepped out of the fireplace, she walked right into a scene with a very naked Ginny and Harry on the sofa in her living room. Yelling, shrieking and laughter had ensued, after which Harry had hastily departed and Ginny had accosted a rosy-cheeked Hermione.

"Tell me everything." Is all the red-haired witch had said.

Hermione had sighed and recounted to Ginny, in full detail, her interactions with Draco up until that point. Ginny had patiently waited for Hermione to finish, at which point she rubbed her chin thoughtfully and declared, "Hmm."

"Really, Ginny? Hmm? That's all you've got?"

"Yes. I mean, let's face it 'Mione, I don't know Draco Malfoy that well, beyond what I heard growing up and seeing the evil little shit he was at school for a while. Then he sort of kept his head down, became Head Boy and ran off with the Death Eaters. But he also left you with a charmed ring to protect you. Then it turns out he's a spy, and he's been feeding us information the entire war. If it were anyone else, I'd say they _really_ fancied you. But if that were the case, then how do you feel? It doesn't sound like you're giving him any chances."

A pause and then – "I've believed him to be a Death Eater for the past four years. It's hard to let that go."

"But as it turns out he's not a Death Eater. Not really."

"But he's obviously had to live as one. How separate could he have kept himself from...actually _becoming_ a Death Eater?"

Ginny's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, obviously, he's had to fit in with the Death Eaters. I doubt that they spend their time bonding over campfires and Butterbeer."

"Let me get this straight," Ginny questioned. "You're worried that he's had to do some bad stuff to get through the War?"

Hermione sighed and bit her lip. No. She _knew_ he'd had to do some bad stuff to survive, that wasn't what her problem was. Not really. But she also didn't want to talk about what was really bothering her with Ginny...or anyone else. Not until she could admit it to herself first.

Ginny, misunderstanding Hermione's silence, continued, "We've all had to do some really shitty things during the War, 'Mione. I'm not, in any way, defending Malfoy or his actions but I am saying this. Give him a chance to explain. Worst case scenario, you're right about him and you can move on."

Hermione made a non-committal sound.

"Are you sure that's all it is?" Ginny asked, perceptively.

Hermione hadn't been able to answer that and had headed back to the safe house shortly afterwards. That was where the Ministry Owl found her a few hours later. Hermione opened the window to let the owl in and relieved it from the plainly-wrapped brown package it was carrying. There was a short note attached.

 _Hermione,_

 _As promised._

 _-K_

She deftly removed the brown packaging paper to reveal a thick stack of parchment. Her eyes skimmed over the first page and she realized that it was Draco's file. Kingsley had kept his word. Her fingers fluttered over the string holding the stack together, before she pulled them away.

Ginny was right. If she wanted to move on, she needed to give him a chance.

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep, but she awoke with a start at the sound of a muffled thump from upstairs. She looked around, disoriented. Darkness had fallen outside but the fireplace in the living room had been lit, providing warmth and light. She didn't recall lighting the fireplace, so that meant Draco had returned. There was another thump and a few moments later, a dishevelled Draco walked into the living room carrying an armful of heavy-looking tomes. He gave her a cool, appraising look and she quickly brushed her hair out of her face in a haphazard attempt to look semi-presentable. She hoped to Merlin she hadn't been drooling in her sleep.

"Where can I keep these?" he asked, lifting the books in his arms.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Your room?"

Draco scowled at her. "If I could, Granger, _don't you think I would have?_ There isn't any space left in my room."

Hermione gestured towards the empty space on the table she used for work. "You can leave them here, I suppose. I can transfigure a bookshelf later." She paused. "Not that I was expecting to have any books to shelve."

"My mother seems to have a skewed perception of the amount of things one needs to keep one occupied for two weeks. I have more books in my room."

That elicited a small smile from Hermione. "Reading isn't a bad way to pass the time."

"Maybe so, but I don't need half the Manor library in here."

Hermione hummed in agreement and watched him walk across the living room to set the books down. "How did the meeting with your mother go?"

Draco stiffened slightly and Hermione wondered whether she had overstepped. She didn't really know what his relationship with Narcissa was like and she hadn't meant to pry. The question had been the only thing to pop into her head as a means to start a conversation.

"Fine."

Obviously, he had no intention of discussing it any further. She could take a hint. "I –er –got an owl from Harry earlier on about meeting him for lunch tomorrow."

"Right."

"He mentioned that there probably will be quite a few reporters lurking about. More so, considering that you haven't spoken to the Daily Prophet since the story broke."

"I am aware."

"Right."

She watched him head back to the direction of the stairs, clearly not having much more to add to the conversation. Hermione scrambled up to follow him.

"Malfoy, wait."

He turned to face her slowly, dispassionately running his eyes over her face. "What is it, Granger?"

"I wanted to apologize for the way I've been acting."

His pale eyebrows shot up, the only thing betraying his surprise on his otherwise expressionless face.

"I haven't been the most welcoming and that's unfair to you," she continued quietly, "I don't know what you've had to go through and I suppose I've just been having a hard time reconciling my impressions of you as a Death Eater with all this new information about you being a spy for our side. And," she gulped painfully, trying to keep her mortification at bay, "I also suppose that I let our…interactions at Hogwarts colour my judgment."

The silence permeating the room after Hermione stopped speaking seemed to stretch on forever. Just as Hermione was about to leave, Draco spoke.

"I don't need your pity, Granger."

"I'm not offering you any, Malfoy."

"Don't make me some kind of a saint in your head. I'm not." He took a step towards her. "Do you realize that in order to maintain the appearance of being a loyal Death Eater, I still had to perform horrendous acts of violence?"

Hermione's eyes widened, but she nodded. "I know –"

"Do you realize that I still had to curse muggles and muggleborns, much like yourself? And I don't mean shooting those Stupefy hexes that you lot are so fond of."

She inhaled sharply, more so at his sharp, hateful tone of voice rather than his words.

"Do you know that I've had to kill?"

He leaned against the side of the staircase and took in her wide-eyed expression with satisfaction. "Do you understand why I haven't talked to the Daily Prophet? People love to hero-worship, and that's fine, if it's you or Potter they're worshipping. You openly fought on the right side and you fought with honour. I did what I had to do to stay alive and it wasn't pretty."

"You still helped us." Hermione said quietly.

"For selfish reasons." Draco's lips twisted into a derisive smile. "I had no idea what I was getting into."

"But you stuck your course."

"Again, for selfish reasons."

"You keep saying that. What selfish reasons?"

Draco exhaled sharply and glanced upwards, as though asking for patience. Before she could react, he closed the distance between them and slid his hand into her hair and tugged her towards him. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss and sent her body into overdrive. Instinctively, her arms slid around his neck and her hands tangled into his own silky blond hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He turned them around and her back hit the side of the staircase. She let out an appreciative sigh as his thigh slid between her legs and leveraged her onto her tip-toes.

Just as suddenly as he had pulled her in, he let her go. She had barely regained her breath when he responded to her question.

"That would be one of them." He help up his hand to stop her when she opened her mouth to speak. "Whatever you're going to say, Granger, don't. I need you to understand what I've told you tonight, and then decide if it's something you can live with. I've done just as much as every other Death Eater out there, and I don't want you to think otherwise."

She watched him disappear upstairs before she could formulate a single sentence. Her head was spinning, her thoughts were jumbled and her knees were weak. She headed back to the sofa and sat down before they gave way completely. She pulled out the thick stack of parchment again, from where she had buried it under her own work. Taking in a deep breath, she untied the string with a swift tug.

If Draco Malfoy wanted to know whether she could come to terms with what he had done, then she had to start off by _knowing_ what that was. Curling her legs under her, she started to read.

* * *

 **A/N: Big thank you to everyone who took the time to read, review and follow/favourite the story! A few shout-outs:**

 **whatsomalfoy –** **I must say, your review had me laughing –cheeky!**

 **Dindore –I meant to thank you for your review on C3 around Hermione's characterization. It had me thinking, "Yes, she gets it!"**

 **Cali Dreamweaver –Hermione may be a smarty-pants but she's one confused soul where Draco's concerned!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 _Stupid concealment charms!_

Hermione sighed in frustration as she got to yet another paragraph that was blurred out, the letters dancing in front of her eyes in a jumbled mess. No amount of counter-charms would break the spell. To be fair, Kingsley had warned her about this from the start, but Hermione had been so determined on getting _something_ to validate her new role as Draco Malfoy's babysitter. She was three-quarters way into the file and she had discovered about as much from it as she had from the Daily Prophet article.

She had learned nothing about Draco, or his role as a Death Eater, or even his role as a spy for the Order. He didn't seem to want to offer much information either, aside from seeming to warn her off.

That left her with one only other person to turn to. Thankfully, she would be seeing him tomorrow.

* * *

''Mione!" Harry waved them over to the table he was seated at.

Hermione and Draco meandered through the tables and made their way to the dark-haired wizard. Harry engulfed Hermione in a hug as soon as she approached. He then extended a hand towards Draco, which Draco clasped in a firm handshake. Somewhere, a _click_ of a camera shutter went off. Hermione huffed and dropped into her seat, pulling a menu towards her. The two wizards followed suit, Draco smirking slightly.

"Is this what being you feels like, Potter? I loathe to say it, but I feel bad for you. This is brutal."

From the moment the pair had stepped foot into Diagon Alley, it had been chaos. Witches and wizards of all ages had stopped in their tracks to openly gape at Draco, with a brave few even coming up to the blond and thanking him with handshakes and pats on the back. Hermione tried to suppress her amusement at his obvious discomfort with appearing _approachable_. She knew the pride he took in keeping people at arm's length and out of his personal space, unless he decided otherwise. He had been that way since Hogwarts, and she doubted that the War would have done anything to change that, other than amplify it.

As manageable as the gratitude of passerby's had been, it quickly turned unbearable once the reporters arrived. Draco could barely take a step without a _click_ of a camera and an accompanying flash of light. Luckily, they still gave him a wide enough berth that none of them dared to come up and start an impromptu interview. With each _click_ and flash, Hermione's mood grew sourer, while Draco, surprisingly, appeared more self-assured.

"Isn't this bothering you?" she had muttered into his ear, as they squeezed through the crowd.

He had smiled widely then, thoroughly unnerving Hermione, and responded "It's all for show, Granger. Surely you've been through this."

She had, and she hadn't enjoyed it one bit. She definitely had not been able to handle it with as much grace and poise as Draco seemed to be doing.

Harry gave a small chuckle. "More than you know, mate."

Hermione wondered whether she had dropped into an alternate universe. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, sharing a meal at a restaurant in Diagon Alley, commiserating over the nuisances of fame. She had to hand it to Harry. He had pushed aside his past prejudice against Draco and was genuinely making an effort to engage him in conversation. She wondered if it had anything to do with what Draco had divulged under Veritaserum. It gave her hope, to a certain degree, that perhaps Draco's acts had not been so heinous as he would like to have her think. After all, it wasn't as though the War had left her own hands any cleaner than his. She took a big gulp from the glass of water placed in front of her and pushed down thoughts of the war. She had done what she had to do, just like everyone else.

"So, what're your plans for after, Malfoy? Planning on sticking it out in Britain?"

Harry's question jolted Hermione out of her reverie. She was curious to know this as well.

"Well," Draco responded in measured tones, "that would depend on whether there's anything to stick around for. My mother and I are fortunate enough to not be burdened financially, so we could really start over wherever we wanted."

A young witch, not much older than themselves, came by to take their orders, which they provided very quickly. Hermione rolled her eyes at the way the simpering witch tried to flirt with _both_ Harry and Draco.

 _What's better than one war hero?_ she thought rather unkindly. _That would be two war heroes._

Harry waited until the witch walked off to continue with his questions.

"You mean you don't have anyone to stay for? Not even a betrothed hidden in the wings? I know that's a thing amongst you old wizarding families."

Draco was silent for a moment, probably as stunned as Hermione was at Harry for asking such a personal question so casually. "My, my, Potter," he finally drawled with amusement tinging his voice, "I didn't know you cared."

Harry shrugged, smirking. "We're basically on a playdate set up by the Ministry, Malfoy. It can't get any more awkward than this. Plus," he looked around for effect, "you can't kill me right now. Too many witnesses."

Draco huffed in laughter and shook his head. "I did have a betrothed. I don't believe the agreement still stands today, however, it is something worth looking into. Thanks for the reminder, Potter."

"Astoria?" Hermione asked, without intending to. She could feel her cheeks reddening.

Draco looked at her oddly and answered, "Yes. How did you know?"

"Uh –you know how girls talk at Hogwarts."

"I never took you to be one of those girls, Granger." He murmured lightly.

"Just because I didn't care, Malfoy, didn't stop other girls from telling me things."

"So you knew a lot of secrets? I wonder if anyone knew any of yours."

Hermione was saved from answering by the timely arrival of their meals. She directed a quick smile at the waitress as she received her plate. She noticed Harry looking between Draco and herself curiously. Hopefully the meal would distract him.

They ate in relative silence, which Hermione was grateful for. She needed to figure out a way to get Harry alone for a few moments so she could ask him about Draco. She got her chance when Draco excused himself and headed for the men's room.

"What was that about?" Harry asked the question as soon as Draco was out of earshot.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione countered defensively.

"That exchange earlier between you and Malfoy. Is something going on between the two of you?"

What on earth are you going on about?" Hermione laughed nervously.

"It seemed –tense between the two of you."

"What could possibly be going on between us, Harry?" Hermione adopted the most no-nonsense tone she could muster. "He hasn't even been back a full week yet. Besides, it's _Malfoy_ we're talking about. That's a crazy thought."

"Is it though?" Harry murmured contemplatively. "We're not at Hogwarts anymore, 'Mione. And he really proved himself to us during the War. At least from what I've seen."

This was her chance. "What _have_ you seen, Harry? Kingsley gave me his file, but the privacy charms are too strong."

"Kingsley gave you his file?" Harry asked sharply. "Why?"

"Why? _Why_?" Hermione hissed. "Maybe because I'm being forced to watch him and I have the right to know what I've gotten myself into? In case it's slipped your mind, I'm the one who has to be cooped up with him at a remote location. I'm sorry if my peace of mind isn't a good enough reason, Harry."

"Hermione, look," Harry responded in a placating tone. "I'm sorry. You're right. We can't talk about this here though. Can you come over to mine tonight?"

Hermione nodded and quickly changed the topic as Draco emerged from the men's room and headed back towards them.

"How's Ron's mission going?"

"Not sure. I haven't had a chance to talk to him. He's back tomorrow though. We'll probably be grabbing a few pints on Friday. Want to join us? You too, Malfoy." Harry added as the blond took his seat back at the table.

"I wouldn't miss out on the chance to give Weasley a conniption for the world," Malfoy responded with a smirk. "Of course, that depends on whether Granger decides to go. Can't very well leave the house on my own."

"I thought this wasn't Hogwarts anymore," Hermione grumbled, echoing Harry's earlier words. She gave in when Draco looked at her, nonplussed. "Oh, all right. Just don't bait him too much."

"Well, this has been…surprisingly, not as painful as I would've imagined." Harry said, standing up. "Unfortunately, I have to get back to the Ministry. Malfoy." He extended his hand out again, which Draco clasped in a firm handshake. "Hermione." He hugged Hermione again, whispering, "I'll see you later."

With a quick wave, he was gone.

Draco looked at his retreating figure for a moment before asking, "Did he just leave us with the cheque?"

Hermione laughed at the realization and flagged down the waitress.

* * *

Draco was in decidedly better spirits after their Diagon Alley trip. Once they had settled the bill, they had strolled around Diagon Alley for a while longer, popping into random shops that attracted their attention. She had been pleasantly surprised at his variety of interests. They visited everything from bookstores, to potions shops to joke shops. It was a breath of fresh air from her trips to Diagon Alley with Harry and Ron, which would inevitably end up in an inordinate amount of time being spent looking at all things Quidditch-related. They had apparated back to the safe house and for once, Draco hadn't disappeared into his room. Instead, he had indulged Hermione in a cup of tea and a debate over the treatment of House Elves. Draco had, with rather good sense, backed off the subject when Hermione had gotten visibly upset over his defense of maintaining the current system.

"You know," she said, sipping her tea, "I don't think I've seen this side of you before."

"What side would that be, Granger?" he asked in amusement.

"This non-grouchy, able-to-carry-on-captivating-conversation side."

"You're calling me grouchy?"

"You are rather…intense at times."

He huffed in laughter. "We haven't really had an easy relationship, Granger. Not at Hogwarts, anyway."

"Right. You were too upset at me for being a Mudblood." She grumbled.

"That's not it."

"It's not?"

"Maybe part of it. But that wore off rather quickly. I couldn't very well keep believing that you were inferior when you were besting me in every class now, could I?"

"So what was it?"

His expression shuttered and Hermione's heart dropped. She knew this look. It meant she wouldn't be getting any answers she hoped for.

Except that she _really_ wanted answers and she was tired of being shut out.

"Tell me, Malfoy. If it wasn't my blood status, what was it?"

"It was appearances, Granger." He responded in resignation.

"What do you mean?"

He looked at her squarely in the eye. "It was about keeping up appearances. I had a reputation to maintain. The Dark Lord had his eye on me and my whole family. I couldn't very well be seen cozying up to Potter and his crew." His face twisted into a grimace. "Not that I would have wanted to. You lot were insufferable with all your do-goodness. It was nauseating, really."

Voldemort had had his eye on Draco from that early on? It shouldn't have come as surprise to Hermione, but in a way, it did. Lucius had been in the upper echelons of Voldemort's circles, but to target his son from that young an age was despicable.

"Were you always expected to become a Death Eater?" Hermione asked quietly.

He was silent for so long, Hermione was sure he wouldn't answer. He finally did, not lifting his gaze from his now empty teacup. "I suppose so. It was never explicitly said, but the year I turned sixteen, I was initiated." He unconsciously rubbed his left forearm, where Hermione guessed the Dark Mark was. "After that, I had to work doubly-hard at maintaining appearances, especially around –" He cut himself off abruptly and his cheeks tinged slightly. "And of course, Dumbledore had to go and make me Head Boy."

"Especially around who?"

Draco shook his head. "And you didn't make it easy for me during our last year, either."

It was Hermione's turn to blush, which she did, furiously. "I was young with a stupid crush."

"Is that all it was?"

"Of course!" Her response came out more vehement than she had intended.

They fell back into silence, except this time, their easy camaraderie had disappeared. Shortly after, Draco thanked her for the tea and retired to his room.

Hermione let out a soft groan. Why did it feel like she had said the wrong thing?

* * *

"Harry! I'm coming through!" Hermione yelled through the fireplace, before stepping through completely.

Harry greeted her warmly as she stepped into his living room in the flat he shared with Ginny. The witch appeared to not be home.

"Thanks for leaving us with the bill, by the way, you cheapskate."

Harry laughed. "What? I reckoned Malfoy wouldn't miss a few Galleons from his Gringotts vault."

Hermione swatted his shoulder playfully.

"Don't worry, Hermione, I'll buy him a few rounds on Friday."

"I can't believe you invited him. Ron's going to have a fit."

"He'll be fine."

"Didn't he send you a Howler?"

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Ginny will be there to keep him in line. Besides, it would've been shitty to not invite Malfoy when he was sitting right there."

Hermione hummed in agreement.

"So what do you want to know, 'Mione?"

"What did Malfoy say to completely earn your trust?"

Harry cleared his throat and fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. "'Mione, I get that you want to know. But what he did tell me was not exactly disclosed voluntarily. It was under the influence of Veritaserum, so he didn't really have a choice."

"And you feel like you'd be breaking his trust if you told me?" Hermione asked perceptively.

"Yes."

Hermione sighed. She wanted to know, but would it be worth it at the cost of having Harry feel rotten about himself?

"Fine, Potter. Don't tell me." She grumbled, falling back into the sofa and feeling rather like a petulant child.

Harry gave her a small smile. "I'll tell you this much, though –we owe him one."

Hermione shot him a sour look. "You can't say things like that and _not_ tell me everything, Harry, so just stop."

Harry laughed and headed towards the kitchen. "Butterbeer?"

"Yes, please."

He brought back two mugs of Butterbeer and placed one in front of Hermione. She watched him as she sipped her drink. He looked vaguely uncomfortable about something.

"What is it, Harry? Spit it out."

"What?" He asked in surprise.

"Don't 'what' me. I've known you long enough to know that look. What's going on?"

He cleared his throat again. "Well –uh –I've been thinking recently. About Ginny."

"What about Ginny? Where is she, anyway?"

"Working late. I've been thinking about –d'you reckon we're too young to be married?"

Hermione almost spat out her Butterbeer. "Harry! Oh my god!" She pulled him into a hug, nearly strangling him. "This is amazing! Are you going to propose?"

"I'd like to." He answered, adjusting his glasses, once she had released him from her death grip. "I just wondered what you thought. Ginny's a year younger and she may not want to be tied down just yet, but," he sighed, "I think she's the one."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione gushed in excitement for her friend, "I know she loves you. She's been in love with you for a long time."

"I know. We've been arguing quite a lot recently, though, and I just –I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I mean, I know what I want. I just don't know if it's too soon for her."

"You should talk to her, Harry. She's a smart witch, she has a good head on her shoulders and she loves you. Sit down and _really_ talk to her, Harry. If you're arguing more than usual, then maybe something's on her mind."

"You're right." He took a deep swig of his Butterbeer. "You should do the same, you know."

"What? Talk to Ginny?"

"Talk to _Malfoy_. If you want to know what he told us, then maybe just talk to him. I have a feeling that he'll tell you without Veritaserum. He did ask that you be the one to stay with him, after all. And don't think I didn't notice him staring at you throughout lunch today."

"He was doing no such thing!" Hermione responded hotly, blushing. With the frequency at which blood ran to her cheeks, she was surprised she still had enough being circulated to other parts of her body.

"Please, I may be a guy but I'm not blind. It makes more sense now that he'd ask for you, I guess. Anyway, so, yeah. Just ask him."

"You think he has feelings for me?"

"It adds up. Not the timeline, though, unless it started at Hogwarts?" Harry shrugged. "What are you going to do about it?"

"For starters, I'm not going to work based off an assumption. I don't really have to do anything about it unless he tells me himself." Even as Hermione said this, she felt spikes of pleasure shooting through her. She promptly subdued the reaction. She refused to let this turn her into a besotted schoolgirl. Again.

"A well-educated assumption." Harry chuckled. "Now Ron's really going to blow his lid."

"Oh Merlin." Hermione groaned. She was _not_ looking forward to Friday.

* * *

 **A/N: Guys! Thank you so much for your reviews, favourites and follows!**

 **TheLoteTree –your review was so well-written and it did address a lot of Hermione's characterization when it came to her personal feelings throughout HP. I'd forgotten about a lot of the smaller details (Marietta Edgecomb!) Thank you for taking the time out to write that out**

 **Dindore, WickedDarkness, Ruthy4vrSmoaked, loveinthemadness, whatsomalfoy –a BIG thank you to you as well for leaving your thoughts.**

 **I hope you all enjoy this chapter –Draco's opening up a little bit more. Since I am so determined to keep this as Hermione's POV only, it'll take a little more time to figure out his past/intentions.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 _A HAT TRICK FOR HERMIONE GRANGER?_

 _The hanger-on of the Golden Trio, the rather plain Hermione Granger, does it again –and this time with none other than our brave hero, Draco Malfoy._

 _Ms. Granger, famously known for her previous relationships with both The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, as well as his courageous best friend, Ron Weasley, appears to have sunk her claws into the sole heir of the immense Malfoy fortune._

 _The pair were spotted early yesterday afternoon, strolling the streets of Diagon Alley before joining their close friend, Mr. Potter, for a quiet lunch._

 _(Story continued on page 4)_

"What garbage," Hermione muttered angrily, snapping the pages of the Daily Prophet shut. In her usual, vitriolic style, Rita Skeeter had twisted their interactions into something more. How this woman was still allowed to write for the newspaper was beyond Hermione's comprehension. The photo splashed across the front page of the Prophet caused her to bite into her toast a mite too hard, her annoyance increasing as crumbs flew across her blouse. She couldn't fault the photographer's impeccable timing. They had captured the moment Hermione had leaned into Draco to complain about the paparazzi, and he had brought his own head closer to hers, a smile playing around his lips. Watching the moment replay over and over again, Hermione had to admit that it did look…intimate.

Great.

She finished the last of her toast and gave a quick wave of her wand, clearing out all the dishes. She was far too agitated to clean up the muggle way. A distinct _pop_ alerted her to someone's presence outside. Logically, she knew that the only other person privy to the location of the safe house was Kingsley Shacklebolt. That didn't stop her from keeping her wand at the ready as she approached the front door. She opened the door just as the visitor had raised his hand to knock.

"Oh, Hermione! Good morning! Mind putting that wand away?"

"Kingsley, I wasn't expecting you." Hermione greeted the Minister with a warm hug and tucked away her wand. "Come on in. Would you like something to drink?" she asked, as she led him towards the living room.

"No, no, I'm quite alright, thank you. Is Draco ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"I'll be accompanying him to…certain appointments today. I take it that he didn't mention anything to you?"

"Well, we aren't exactly on an exchanging-schedules basis." Hermione muttered. "And I don't care where he goes, provided that I'm no longer the one accompanying him."

"I take it you've read today's Daily Prophet?" Kingsley asked, a sliver of apology colouring his tone.

"Is there anyone in Wizarding Britain who hasn't?"

"Hermione, I'm so-"

Hermione held up a hand. "There's nothing you could have done, Kingsley. Skeeter is a piece of work, but I've endured worse. I should've squashed her when I had the chance." The last part was uttered under her breath. "I wanted to thank you, by the way. For the…package."

Kingsley nodded in acknowledgment.

"You were right about the enchantments. Rendered the files rather useless."

"Hmm," Kingsley acquiesced. "I was hoping you'd be able to learn something from them. Anything to set your mind at ease."

"Unfortunately, nothing so far." She picked up a parchment from the file and looked over it impassively. Blurry passages swam on the page. "I'll keep digging."

Kingsley quickly checked his watch. "Would you mind letting Draco know I'm here? We must get going."

"No need for that, Shacklebolt."

Hermione spun around. He hadn't lost any of his stealth, she noted drily. He was dressed in smart, black robes, his face was clear of any stubble and his hair was slicked back in a style that reminded her of his Hogwarts days. He looked…austere. He glanced at her and nodded in greeting, before walking towards Kingsley and grasping his hand in a firm shake. Hermione felt her face redden. She wondered if he'd read the rubbish in the Daily Prophet.

"Shall we, then?" Kingsley asked.

Draco nodded. A quick hug from Kingsley and the two men made their way to the Apparition point, just outside the safe house. Less than a minute later, they were gone.

Hermione walked up to the fireplace and grabbed a fistful of Floo powder. A moment later, she found herself in her own living room.

"Ginny!" She called out, covering her eyes. "Let me know if you're here…and decent."

She heard her friend's laughter and approaching footsteps. "I'm alone and decent, 'Mione. Would you like some breakfast?"

Hermione gave her friend a quick hug and followed her into the kitchen. "No, I ate. And even if I hadn't, I don't have much of an appetite right now."

Ginny surveyed her morose expression sympathetically. "I take it you've read today's Daily Prophet?"

"Seriously, Gin, if I ever lay my eyes on that vile woman, so help me Merlin, I may just end up in Azkaban!" she responded hotly, eyes flashing with ire. "And the fact that the Prophet just _continues_ to publish that utter hogwash!"

Ginny sighed. "You know how it is…whatever drives up the sales. Everyone knows Rita Skeeter plays fast and loose with the truth, anyway."

Hermione was tempted to remind the younger witch that it hadn't stopped her mother from all but shunning her back during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but she wisely held her tongue. Molly Weasley was a fierce woman who protected her own at all costs…and despite everything, she considered Hermione to be one of her own as well.

"So what brings you here this morning?" Ginny asked. "Tired of babysitting the Malfoy heir?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I was tired merely at the thought of it. Doing it is much harder."

"How is it between the two of you? Any more revelations?"

"Revelations?"

"You know, any more secret enchanted jewellery? Or perhaps he's just come out and openly declared his love for you?"

Hermione laughed at that. "Well, Gin, your imagination sure is creative."

"Is it, though? Ginny questioned. "You can't tell me that being in close quarters with him these past few days hasn't had any impact whatsoever. Harry even mentioned that the two of you seemed…different than what he expected."

Oh, Harry, the _gossip!_ Hermione would kill him. "I'm not saying it hasn't had an impact. I'm just saying that it's not what you think."

"Really? So absolutely nothing?" Ginny's gaze pierced her own and for a moment, Hermione thanked the stars that her Occlumency skills, while not perfect, were quite strong.

"We may have…kissed." Hermione blushed. "Once."

The squeal Ginny emitted was so shrill, Hermione thought it a wonder that her ears didn't immediately bleed. "Hermione! I can't believe you didn't tell me. Not to say that I'm surprised, of course. If anything, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner."

"Seriously, Ginny, stop. I don't know where you're getting your crazy ideas from but they need to stop. It was just a heat of the moment thing. It was right after he told me about how he had to curse muggleborns, such as _myself_."

Ginny's expression turned more sombre at that. She placed a hand over Hermione's and gave it a light squeeze. "Unfortunately, that was to be expected. He had to play the part of a convincing Death Eater, after all."

"That's the thing, Gin. I don't think he was merely _playing the part_. I think he just was one –and he happened to be passing information along to us." She turned her head away from Ginny. The sad expression in the younger witch's eyes brought involuntary tears to her own.

"Is there really a difference?" Ginny asked, her voice so soft that Hermione had to strain to hear. "He did what he had to do to survive. I don't think Voldemort would have let him live if he shied away from the dirty work."

"He said he helped us for selfish reasons."

"Do we know what those reasons are?"

Hermione shook her head. She didn't want to make any assumptions.

"Then we can't really judge him fairly, now can we?"

Hermione sniffed in amusement. "Ginny, I can't believe we're sitting here and you're trying to convince _me_ that Draco Malfoy is a good guy. That is just bizarre."

"I'm not saying that he's a _good_ guy. I'm just saying that he might not be one of the bad ones. He's here because Kingsley, and in some way, Harry, believe that he deserves to be here. That must mean that no matter what he did out there as a Death Eater, he must have done at least _one_ substantial good deed. At least one. And if it's big enough to have him walk free amongst us, then I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Then why am I finding it so hard?"

Ginny smirked. "Because you're trying to get into his pants and your morality's getting in the way?"

Hermione shot her a murderous glare before swatting her lightly with a spoon. Ginny jerked away from the playful attack, laughing.

"Anyway," she continued, through her laughter. "I can't wait to see the two of you tomorrow night."

"And that's another thing," Hermione fumed. "I can't _believe_ Harry invited him! Ron's going to have a conniption."

"Like I said, I can't wait."

* * *

Hermione spent the rest of the day with Ginny, who didn't have to go in to work until the evening.

' _We're entertaining some international Quidditch players from Mexico –they haven't adjusted to the time difference yet,'_ Ginny had explained. Hermione wondered why they hadn't taken any one of the tens of common potions available to combat this, but didn't pursue the subject.

They walked around Diagon Alley, stopping by their usual shops before settling down for lunch at a hole-in-the wall restaurant in muggle London. This was one of her and Ginny's favourite thing to do since Hermione had introduced her to a hidden-away Thai restaurant and the younger witch had immediately fallen in love. They had made it a point to try out the most inconspicuous places in search of the best foods.

"How're things with you and Harry, then?" Hermione asked, once they had ordered their meals.

Ginny shrugged. "We talked about some things."

"And?"

Ginny sighed and her shoulders slumped slightly. "I don't know. Sometimes I just feel like it's a lot to take in. Being with Harry Potter. _The_ Harry Potter."

"Ginny…" Hermione trailed off, unsure of what to say. If Ginny had an insecure side, she had never shown it before.

"I know, I'm probably just being stupid. I just –I don't know –feel as though I'm holding him back?"

" _What?_ " Ginny was right, Hermione thought. She was being stupid. "What are you on about? Having been one of Harry's best friends for the past ten year, I can tell you on good authority and with the utmost certainty that Harry Potter would be a total loser without you by his side."

Ginny's smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Unless," Hermione continued perceptively, "it's the other way around?"

The flash of pain in the redhead's eyes confirmed Hermione's suspicions. Her heart dropped as her mind wandered to the last conversation she had had with Harry. It was saddening to know that two of her closest friends felt so differently. That was just the nature of relationships, she supposed.

"Ginny," she began, comfortingly. "If that's how you feel, there's nothing really wrong with that. You're both young and you've been through a lot. Some would say that it's natural to feel the way you do. You both need a chance to grow, to discover yourselves."

Ginny blinked back tears. "But…it's _Harry_. He's been the love of my life for as long as I can remember. I feel like I'm betraying him by feeling this way. Like it's not the right thing to do."

Hermione leapt out of her seat and engulfed Ginny in a hug. "Gin, you once told me that there's no 'right thing'. You also told me that you have to follow your heart and your gut. Both you and Harry are so dear to me, the last thing I'd want is for you to _not_ be together. But I also want both of you to be happy."

Ginny leaned into her embrace and gave out a shaky breath of relief. "Thank you, 'Mione. I've been so scared to actually put my feelings into words for so long. This really helps."

"Anytime," Hermione smiled into Ginny's hair and gave her shoulders a last squeeze before returning to her seat.

Their food arrived at that moment, and their conversation turned to lighter topics. By the time they worked their way through their desserts, Ginny was in decidedly higher spirits.

"Mm, that was _so_ good!" Ginny proclaimed, patting her belly. "We _have_ to come back to this place."

Hermione not-so-covertly unbuttoned the top button of her jeans. "I don't think I can ever eat again!" she groaned, dropping her head back in her chair.

"Pshh," Ginny waved dismissively. "That's what you say every time." She checked her watch. "Fancy grabbing a pint before we head home?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? In the middle of the afternoon?"

Ginny shrugged. "Do you have anything better to do? Missing Malfoy already?"

"He's not even home right now."

"Really? Where is he?"

"I don't know why everyone thinks I would know his plans for the day," Hermione grumbled. "I have no clue. He just left with Kingsley for _certain appointments_."

"Great. No excuse for you to not join me then. Come on, let's get going."

Twenty minutes later, Hermione found herself sitting at a Wizarding pub, nursing a mug of Butterbeer. She had only ordered one to keep Ginny company, but she hadn't been lying when she'd said she was full. She doubted that she'd make it through even half the Butterbeer.

She had been left alone for a couple of minutes while Ginny visited the ladies' room. Lost in thought over the events of the day, she was startled when a vaguely familiar voice greeted her.

"Hello, Granger."

She jumped and swivelled around in her seat. She blinked at the man standing in front of her, trying to place him. "Zabini?"

"The one and the same." He smiled. "I must admit, you're the last person I expected to find in a pub drinking Butterbeer in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday."

"I'm surprised that you have any expectations of me at all, considering that we didn't really know each other at Hogwarts."

"Touché," he responded, his smile now a full-blown grin. "Allow me to remedy that immediately." He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you. My name is Blaise Zabini."

In spite of herself, Hermione smiled in response and took his hand. It was hard to resist his boyish charm. "Hermione Granger. The pleasure is all mine."

"Are you here alone, Hermione?"

"No, I'm with –"

"She's with me." Ginny walked up to her seat and examined Blaise with interest. "Zabini. Fancy seeing you here."

"Ginevra. It's been a while."

"It has, indeed. Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"Our family moved to Italy right before the war. I was there for a year or so, then spent some time in Greece and now I'm back in London. Couldn't stay away for too long."

"That would explain the tan," Ginny commented drily.

"Would you like to join us?" Hermione asked, mainly to be polite. It was getting awkward, having him stand around while they were seated. Blaise, however, obliged only too willingly.

He was a great conversationalist, Hermione conceded. They talked about Hogwarts, the war, Quidditch (Hermione was more than happy to stay out of that particular topic), holiday destinations, food and the future. An hour went by before she realized it, and when she did, she jumped out of her seat in a hurry.

"I hate to cut this short," she said, truly meaning it, "but I have to head back. I haven't gotten _any_ work done today."

"I suppose I should be heading home too." Ginny conceded. "Blaise, it was lovely seeing you again. Keep in touch."

"Of course." He gave the two witches another winning smile and stopped them as they reached for their purses. "Ladies, please. This round's on me."

"Blaise, I couldn't possibly –" Hermione began in protest.

"You can get the next one," he cut her off and winked. He dropped a few Galleons on the table and walked them to the nearest Apparition point.

Hermione gave Ginny a quick hug and a wave to Blaise, before she Apparated back to the safe house. She hummed slightly as she entered through the front door. Despite the disastrous start to the day, she had had a good time during the course of it. She had definitely needed the break from the mental stress over the past couple of weeks.

She set her shopping bags by the stairs and ventured into the living room. She came to an abrupt stop and her heart slammed into her throat as she came upon the sight of one visibly angry –no, furious –Draco Malfoy reading a very recognisable parchment. The one from his file.

Oh no.

The silence was deafening. She knew he had registered her presence. The tightening of his jaw had given it away.

"Malfoy." She hated how breathy her voice sounded.

He didn't look at her.

"It's not what it –" Hermione tried again before cutting herself off. It was exactly what it looked like. There was no other explanation for it, and Hermione wasn't going to insult his intelligence by pretending otherwise.

"Looks like?" he finished for her, sarcasm dripping heavily from his voice. "These aren't my _confidential_ files, and you aren't trying to determine who I am and what I've done?"

Hermione swallowed. "Is that so wrong?"

He turned his gaze on her then, and she was shocked at what she saw there. It wasn't just the anger, which she had expected. It was something else, almost akin to hurt.

Betrayal.

He huffed and with a small, mocking smile said, "No, I suppose it's not wrong. After all, why should a _Death Eater_ be afforded any privacy? Right? That right is reserved for the ones who openly fought with the Light side, correct?"

Hermione frowned at his insinuation. "No, that's not it. That's not it _at all_. I'll admit, I want to know what you've done. I want to know if it's…something I can live with."

"Then why not just _bloody ask?_ " Draco hissed, storming up to her. "Why the _fuck_ would you have my _personal files_ pulled out?"

"Would you tell me, if I asked?" Hermione challenged.

"I was the one who fucking offered to talk about it as soon as I arrived, Granger."

"That doesn't mean you'd tell me the truth."

"Then you'd have to buy a sodding clue, Granger, and realize that maybe, _maybe_ , I'm not ready to talk about it?"

"What do you want me to do, Malfoy?" Hermione cried in exasperation. "I don't know what you want from me, I don't know how to be around you. I don't know why you kissed me the other night and I don't know why you kissed me four years ago. And I sure as hell can't figure out any of your cryptic messages. So what would you have me do?"

Draco closed his eyes and ran one hand over his face. Suddenly, it was as though all the rage had left his body and was replaced with a deep sense of fatigue. His eyes were a stormy grey when he reopened them.

"I don't know, Granger. I just –don't fucking know."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello, everyone! Hope you've all had a great start to the new year :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter -please leave a review, I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Ron!" Hermione half-yelled, trying to catch the wizard's attention over the din in the pub. She waved her empty glass at him as she caught his attention. "Are you on your way to the bar? Can you grab me another?"

Ron nodded and weaved his way through the crowd towards the bar. Hermione sighed contentedly and slumped slightly in her seat. She realized that she may have possibly imbibed a little bit more than her usual, but damn it, she deserved it! Her head fell back against her seat. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Despite the boisterous atmosphere in the pub, she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in this very moment.

She attributed this to the fact that she hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. Her latest altercation with Draco had left her feeling more drained than it had any right to. The guilt she experienced every time she thought about how utterly betrayed he had looked had left her tossing and turning in discomfort.

A cold sensation against her forehead startled her upright.

"Whoa, 'Mione, watch it!" Ron grinned as he neatly saved the drink in his hand from being knocked over and placed the ice-cold glass in front of her.

"Really, Ron, _you_ startled _me_!"

"Couldn't very well let you fall asleep on me, now could I? It's not even nine o'clock yet."

"I wasn't falling asleep. I was just…resting my eyes for a bit." Hermione took a long sip of her fruity, alcoholic drink and smiled happily at Ron. "I'm glad you're back. I missed you."

"It's only been a few weeks, 'Mione," Ron chuckled.

"It's been a _long_ few weeks for me." Hermione grumbled.

Ron's lips flattened in disapproval and he took a swig of his beer. His eyes searched the room until they landed upon the blond. "I don't blame you for feeling that way. I can't believe Harry invited that git out tonight. If he did so much for us during the war, why the hell do we have to help him _reintegrate_ at all? Shacklebolt should've stuck his own neck out for him."

Hermione followed Ron's gaze to where Draco stood by Harry and Ginny, his expression in conflict with his body language. Outwardly, he seemed composed –entertained, even, but the stiffness in his being painted a different picture. He would rather be anywhere but here. A pretty witch was attempting to engage him in conversation (and she was not the first of the night, Hermione noted sourly), to no avail.

As if sensing her scrutiny, he turned his head towards her slightly and their eyes locked. Even from this distance, Hermione could tell that he was still angry. She blinked and shook her head slightly, turning back to Ron.

"Kingsley _is_ sticking his own neck out for him, Ron." She swirled her drink contemplatively and took another sip. "But it's not as though we're putting our names or our reputation on the line for Malfoy. It's not a made-up story. He _did_ help us. Kingsley knows this for a fact, and Robards and Harry were present when they questioned Malfoy under _Veritaserum_. And they have his memories. So no one's really sticking their neck out. Not in the true sense of the saying."

Ron made a face and chugged the rest of his beer. "He could've _Imperio'd_ the lot of them, you know."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, not even bothering to waste any energy in shooting his impossible theory down.

"Oh, _fine_ , but I still don't trust him."

"You don't have to."

"I don't bloody like him either."

"You don't have to do that, either."

Ron huffed and crossed his arms, reminding Hermione of a petulant child. She smiled at the thought. Ron was so…open. At any given moment, it was so easy to identify what he was feeling. She could always count on Ron to speak his mind, no filter, no guardedness, and no cryptic words –nothing that kept her wondering for hours on end. So easy.

She studied his face, somewhat flushed from either his drinking or from the heat permeating through the room. Objectively, she could see why he seldom lacked female companionship. His features held a boyish charm and his eyes were a piercing shade of blue.

It was a shame, she thought to herself, that she hadn't been able to return his affections all those years ago. But she had never felt _that_ way about Ron. Not the way she had once felt about Draco.

She leaned forward and placed her hand over his. He looked at her questioningly.

"Thank you, Ron."

"What for?" His face crinkled in confusion.

Hermione shrugged. "For being you. And for not making a huge fuss tonight."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I would have. If Ginny had let me."

"What is she holding over your head this time?" Hermione grinned.

"Don't ask," he grumbled. "How she turned out so devious, I'll never know."

"Dealing with six brothers." Hermione retorted dryly. "I'm sure it was just a means of survival."

Harry and Ginny had met up with Ron prior to the arrival of Hermione and Draco. They had decided that surprising Ron with Draco's appearance would be of no benefit of anyone, aside from the diligent writers at the _Daily Prophet_. So the pair had warned Ron ahead of time, and if Ginny was to be believed, they had had to cast a Silencing charm on him while he yelled at them for the next five minutes. When he had finally calmed down, Ginny had removed the charm and forced –nay, _blackmailed_ Ron into being _civil_ with Draco.

When Hermione and Draco had finally arrived, Hermione had all but leapt into the redheaded wizard's arms. Not only had she been happy to see her friend after what felt like an interminable amount of time, she had also been rather glad to have a reason to step away from the frosty presence of one irate Draco Malfoy. Ron had hugged her back fiercely and then proceeded to glare at Draco, who had coolly stared back. The two men, being of equal height, had engaged in a rather long stare-down, until Harry had stepped in, slapped Draco on the back in greeting, introduced Ginny and bought everyone a round of drinks.

Conversation had flowed more easily after that, mainly amongst Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. A few rounds in, Harry and Ginny had drifted away, dragging Draco with them _"to make the rounds"_ , as Ginny had put it. As though they were attending a high society event, rather than being a loud, raucous pub.

"Hey, Ron."

Hermione glanced up to the owner of the syrupy voice and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. A dark-haired, busty witch was eyeing Ron with what one could only describe as "bedroom eyes".

"Er –hey, Trisha. Long time no see."

"You didn't tell me you were back." The dark-haired witch pouted.

"I just got back into town yesterday. I've been meaning to owl you." Ron responded with an easy smile. Hermione hid a smile behind her hand. Smooth.

"Well, don't you want to buy me a drink?" she asked, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.

"Sure –erm, that is, if you're okay with it, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled at them both and waved them off. "Of course, I'll just finish my drink and join Ginny."

She watched as the dark-haired witch almost dragged Ron to the bar, and then looked around. Harry and Ginny were nowhere in sight. Neither was Draco. She wondered if that last witch had been successful in gaining his attention, after all. She felt a pang in her chest at the thought and suppressed it with another gulp of her drink.

"Hermione. Fancy seeing you here."

Hermione smiled warmly at the familiar voice.

"Hello, Blaise."

"May I?" He indicated at the seat Ron had just vacated.

"Please."

"Why are you sitting here by yourself? And with a nearly-empty drink."

"I seem to have misplaced my friends. And, I suppose I've been enjoying this drink a little too much."

Blaise nodded gravely. "Lucky for you, I can fix at least _one_ of those problems. I'll be right back."

And he was, a few minutes later, carrying two drinks in his hand.

"Oh, er- thank you, Blaise. I wasn't intending on getting another. I feel I may have had one too many already."

He waved away her protests. "It just wouldn't do for me to drink alone. Please. You're doing me a favour."

Hermione chuckled. "Fine, but seriously, Blaise. I'm fairly certain that I owe you a round?"

"Now you owe me two! Cheers!"

"So are _you_ here alone, Blaise?"

"Me? No, no. I'm actually here with one of my old friends. You may not remember her, she was a couple of years below us, and in Slytherin."

"Oh?" Hermione couldn't explain the dread that crept up inside of her.

"One of the Greengrass sisters…Astoria?"

"Ah, yes. Erm…Daphne's sister?" Hermione feigned forgetfulness, while her insides writhed in discomfort.

"That's the one!"

"Right."

What were the chances? Draco's first night out in Wizarding Britain after the war and he happens to be at the same pub as his _betrothed_. Hermione bit back a moan. The universe was too cruel.

"Are you here with Ginny?"

"Yes, I am. And Harry, Ron and Dr –er, Malfoy."

"Draco's _here_?" Blaise shot up and looked around excitedly. "Where is he?"

"I'm not sure, I haven't seen –"

"Blaise!" a shrill voice cut her off. "Look who I ran into!"

Too. Cruel.

Draco Malfoy, accompanying one, admittedly stunning, Astoria Greengrass on his arm, walking straight towards them. Hermione took a deep breath and plastered what she hoped was a serene smile across her face.

"Draco!" Blaise grinned at the other wizard and pulled him into a man-hug, which to Hermione's surprise, Draco did not reject. In fact, this was the _most_ engaged and happy she had _ever_ seen him. "Good to see you, mate."

"Blaise, good to see you too. It's been a while. How was mainland?"

Blaise shrugged, faintly embarrassed. "It was alright. Stayed out of trouble. You know Zabinis have always been neutral."

Draco smirked. "I'm not holding it against you."

Blaise's look changed to one of relief. "Hermione just told me you were here."

Draco spared her an implacable glance then. "Did she? I ran into Tori not too long ago. She said she was here with you."

 _Tori?_ Hermione gagged inwardly.

"Draco, I'm so ecstatic I ran into you tonight," Astoria all but breathed out. "It's been _so_ long indeed. I was over the moon when I read that you'd returned. And of course, the _Daily Prophet_ is already posting the most outlandish stories about you." She threw Hermione a withering glance, while Hermione glared back at her, daring her to continue.

She was _not_ going to stand for this from some prissy little witch, not tonight and not ever. This wasn't Hogwarts and they weren't teenagers anymore.

Not that Astoria had ever been known for her intelligence.

"How utterly absurd of them to assume that you would be entranced by the likes of _Granger_ –"

"Excuse me?" Hermione stood abruptly. Blaise pulled at his collar in discomfort, and she could see that familiar muscle ticking in Draco's jaw.

"Astoria," he ground out, warning evident in his tone.

"What, Draco?" she whined. "You know I'm right. There's no way that you'd ever fall for that bushy-haired –" Astoria's mouth clamped shut as Hermione drew out her wand.

"Greengrass," Hermione muttered, murder in her eyes, "for once in your life, use your brain and know when to _shut up_. Ever thought that _I_ wouldn't be interested in your precious _Draco_?"

Hermione could pinpoint the exact moment the younger witch's eyes turned malicious. She knew what was coming and she _really_ wished it wouldn't.

Don't say it.

Don't say it.

"Oh, _please_ , Granger. We _all_ know you were absolutely dying to get into Draco's pants back in –"

This time Astoria's words were cut off by a large hand being placed over her mouth. Draco, fuming, whispered, "Tori, you never did know when to keep your mouth shut. I don't want to hear another word about Granger from you _ever again_. Are we clear?"

Draco's face was turned away from Hermione, but whatever Astoria saw in his eyes caused her to nod slowly. Fearfully.

"Good." Draco slowly dropped his hand and moved away. Hermione flattened her lips in distaste and sheathed her wand.

"I think I'm ready to leave." She announced. Draco nodded.

She walked around the table to hug Blaise goodbye, and squeezed a little harder as he murmured a 'sorry' into her ear. She walked away quickly, ignoring the stunned witch and getting away from Draco as quickly as humanly possible, even though she knew they'd have to Apparate back to the safe house together. She just needed a minute alone. She pushed the doors to the pub open and sucked in a mouthful of the crisp evening breeze as she stepped outside.

 _What had just happened?_

She walked over to the side of the building and rested against the cool, brick exterior, her eyes falling shut.

What a mess. What an absolute, total, utter mess.

On the one hand, meeting Ron hadn't been quite the explosive event she'd expected. On the other hand, she could have done with not bumping into Astoria.

"Are you ready, Granger?"

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of his cool voice. She wondered if he'd been standing there for long. She hoped not.

"Yes."

"Do you think you'll be able to get us there without splinching us?"

"And why wouldn't I be able to do that?"

"Because you're drunk?"

"I am _not_ drunk!" Hermione bristled.

"Could've fooled me with the way you were about to start a brawl in there." He jerked his thumb towards the pub.

"Well," Hermione responded bitterly, "your _betrothed_ was really asking for it."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Draco's face and he stalked up to her until they were a mere hairsbreadth apart. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her away from the wall and flush up against his body. Hermione craned her neck to look up at him, swallowing hard.

"W-what are you doing?"

He lowered his head to her ear. "Waiting for you to Apparate us."

"Right."

With a _pop!_ they were gone.

* * *

 **A/N: Their night is still young! I was going to write a super-long chapter but ultimately decided to post two separate chapters. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the previous chapter and to everyone who's favourited and followed this story. Don't forget to leave a review if you enjoyed this chapter -feedback fuels the brain!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Oomph!"

Hermione stumbled as her feet hit the living room floor, clutching onto Draco. He huffed with amusement as he steadied her.

"Are you still sure you're not drunk?"

Hermione glared at him. "I am _not_ drunk. I got us here in one piece, didn't I?"

Draco smirked. "By some miracle, yes, you did. I must say, I'm rather surprised. I thought you'd be a stickler for the rules around intoxicated Apparition."

She flicked her wand at the fireplace, illuminating the room in a soft, warm glow and ignored his statement. Truth be told, she hadn't thought about it in the moment, and now she felt rather…irresponsible. "We had to get back somehow," she mumbled.

She felt his silent laughter reverberate through his body and realized that neither of them had made any moves to break their embrace. She became acutely aware of the warmth of his hands against her back and the gentle circles they were making. He didn't seem to realize he was doing it.

"Relax, Granger," he murmured, and for a moment she thought he had noticed how her breathing had quickened. "I don't really care. I trust you."

Rationally, Hermione knew that he meant that he trusted her magical abilities, but to hear him say those words still came as a surprise. She stared back at him, unsure of how to respond. Seconds ticked by, and Hermione let herself _really_ look at him for the first time since his return. Something she had made concerted efforts to avoid.

There was still a small smile playing around his full lips, softening his otherwise hard, angular face. His eyes were dark, turbulent, hinting at a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions underneath his light demeanour. The biggest change, she realized, was the loss of innocence that marked his features. They all looked the same in that regard, she recognized. Harry, Ron, Ginny, herself. Everyone who'd survived the War. It made her sad.

She lifted her hand to his face and placed it against his cheek. His skin felt cool beneath her fingers. He closed his eyes as she gently ran her thumb across the smooth plane of his cheekbone. He didn't move away, but didn't quite lean into the touch. She felt him stiffen almost imperceptibly.

Impulsively, heart hammering, she rose to her tiptoes and placed a light, lingering kiss on his lips. His lips, while soft and pliable under her own, were not responsive. He made no attempt to deepen the kiss, just accepted it for what it was –a salve for the pain they had endured.

She pulled back and opened her eyes. His expression was inscrutable, his eyes even darker than before as they roamed over her face. She wondered if he too was studying her face, as she had just done. She wondered what he saw there.

"This is such a bad idea," he whispered.

"What is?"

His hand swept up from her back to her head, where he tangled his fingers into her hair and pulled her up onto her tiptoes again. "This," he said, before lowering his lips to hers.

This kiss was nothing like the last. This kiss was more familiar, more terrifying, more exciting territory. Where before his lips had been unresponsive, they were now sensual, hungry, coaxing. She felt a rush of warmth that spread through her body and kissed him back with equal fervour. His kiss was soft at first, but slowly grew in intensity, leaving her weak at the knees. He must have sensed it because before she knew it, they were falling back onto the sofa.

He broke their kiss then to adjust himself atop Hermione on the cramped space of the couch. A second later, his lips were back on hers, his insistent mouth parting her own, sending wild tremors along her nerves. She dragged her hands along his back, eliciting a muffled groan from him. His hand found the hem of her blouse and his fingers inched under, hesitantly, unsure.

Hermione pulled away.

"Touch me."

Draco swallowed and slid his hand under her blouse, watching her reactions as he brushed his knuckles from the side of her hip, along the curve of her waist, up to the side of the breast, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Hermione whimpered, overwhelmed with sensation. With shaky fingers, Hermione reached up to unbutton his shirt, _needing_ to feel his skin.

He slanted his lips over hers once more while she unbuttoned his shirt and moved slightly to shrug it off. His mouth found the pulse points behind her ear and at the base of her throat, as he kissed her like he couldn't get enough.

"Draco," she breathed, once again running her fingers across his back. But this time, she was slower, memorizing the rises and dips, the way his muscles moved, the thick ridges of skin where scars had healed, poorly.

Hermione stopped.

 _Scars?_

He lifted his head to look at her as he noticed her stillness.

"What…?" she trailed off.

He sighed. "They're just scars, Granger."

Her eyes were wide, full of questions. He huffed and lithely jumped to his feet, grabbing his discarded shirt and pulling it back on. The mood in the room had changed and she could sense his irritation.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"It's fine."

"It's just –there were _so many_ –"

"I think I know what's on my own body, Granger, thanks," he snapped.

Hermione pulled down her blouse and jumped to her feet, still somewhat unsteady, but not from the liquor.

"Malfoy, _please_ ," she pleaded as she lightly grasped his wrist. "Tell me."

"Tell you _what_ , Granger?"

"Something. _Anything!_ "

He ran his hand through his hair, tugging in frustration. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have.

She rubbed her face as they stood around in awkward silence for a minute until she couldn't take it anymore. She scuffed her foot against the carpet.

"Do you want some tea?"

Because _that_ would solve everything. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at herself.

"I should probably get going to bed."

"Er –yes, of course, you must be tired," she responded, trying to mask the hurt from the instant rejection.

Draco looked at her contemplatively for a moment before muttering reluctantly, "A cup couldn't hurt, I suppose."

Hermione suppressed the full-on grin that threatened to emerge and instead made her way into the kitchen. She set the kettle on while Draco leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed.

"Bulgarian prisons," he said conversationally. "They prefer physical methods of torture. An inefficient use of energy, if you ask me."

He was studying his fingernails, studiously avoiding her gaze.

"They –they _tortured_ you?" Hermione whispered, horrified.

"Don't sound so upset, Granger. They thought I was a Death Eater," he countered lightly. "Anyway, I'd rather not discuss this anymore, if it's all the same to you."

"Right. Well, um –" she scrambled for a change of topic. "Did you enjoy your night?"

She blushed as soon as the question left her mouth.

He smirked and tilted his head, as if to think about it. "I suppose I did. I haven't quite had the chance to go to a pub in the past few years with the sole purpose of enjoying myself. And our most _recent_ activities were _quite_ the pleasant surprise."

Hermione's hum was non-committal. "With what purpose _did_ you go to pubs, then?" she asked, ignoring his latter statement. Her voice was deceptively light, but she knew the topic was anything but.

"Do you really want to know?"

She locked eyes with him. "Yes. I do."

His eyes locked with her own for a moment and then shrugged. "Meetings with informants. We wouldn't normally pick places like the one we went to tonight. The places we went to were…darker. Dingier. Away from prying eyes and sensitive ears. Or sometimes, there would be a target there we needed to…handle. And other times it would just be for the women."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up at the last comment and her lips flattened. "Did you –?" she started to ask and then changed her mind. As revolted as she felt by the thought, it was none of her business. Draco seemed to understand her line of questioning and responded anyway.

"No. Well, once, in the early stages. I was trying not to rouse any suspicion. After I failed at my mission with Dumbledore, I had a lot of eyes on me. I smartened up pretty quickly later on though. Death Eaters aren't exactly renowned for their intelligence."

Once. That wasn't too bad. But…

"Was she…lucid?"

"What?" Draco asked in confusion.

"That time that you…did that, was the woman willing?"

"I didn't force or _Imperio_ or slip her a potion, if that's what you're asking. I didn't have to," he answered sharply. "And believe it or not, there _are_ some boundaries I wouldn't cross."

She gave a small sigh of relief, not even realizing that she had been holding her breath until he responded. If his response had been anything else, well –there were some boundaries _she_ refused to cross as well. She simply nodded in response and busied herself with pouring the tea.

"What made you decide to be a spy for our side?"

"Was the offer of tea just a pretense to interrogate me?"

Hermione reddened. "No, of course not. I just want to know more about you."

"The files didn't give you enough information?" he asked dryly.

She smiled blandly at him and handed him his mug. "No, all the good bits were concealed."

He chuckled and shook his head. Apparently, he was no longer that upset about the whole incident, or the alcohol had loosened him up too. They walked back into the living room.

"I thought I'd told you why."

"No, you just said it was for 'selfish reasons' and then you…"

"Kissed you?" He smirked again, taking a seat beside her on the sofa.

"Yes." Hermione hoped it was too dark for him to notice her blush. "But I know you only did that to derail the conversation. So what's the real answer?"

He sighed. "First of all, you don't know as much as people give you credit for, clearly. And as for the real answer, there isn't one. It was selfish. I –didn't quite share the same beliefs as my parents, although I would say that my mother was the more progressive one. I can't say I was pro-muggles and muggleborns but Hogwarts shook my convictions. There you were, brightest fucking witch of our age, muggleborn, kicking my arse in every class." He toasted her with his mug. "That was enough to create doubts in my mind. And I decided that if I wasn't completely convinced, I wasn't going to stand behind the Dark Lord."

"Did you know Voldemort was a half-blood?"

"I heard whisperings of it and that was really the kicker."

"What else did you have to do during the War?"

Draco drained his mug then and set it down. "I'd rather not talk about that tonight."

Hermione nodded. They settled into silence once again before Hermione blurted out the one question she'd been fighting all night.

"Are you and Astoria still betrothed?"

"No."

"Good." She slapped a hand to her mouth as soon as the unintentional reaction slipped out.

He shot her a sidelong glance. "Is it? What about you and Weasley? If the _Daily Prophet_ is to be believed, you two were –are –together?"

Hermione snorted. "Please. The _Daily Prophet_ is never to be believed when it comes to my private life."

"You two seemed close tonight."

"He's my best friend."

"I didn't know that you and Blaise were friendly either."

"We met recently. He seems nice enough."

"Are you attracted to him?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she spluttered at the question. "What? I don't see how that's relevant to you."

"It is, considering what just took place right here." He waved his hand across the sofa.

"No, I'm _not_ attracted to him," Hermione bit out. "I just can't understand why you'd jump to that conclusion."

"I didn't jump to any conclusions. I asked you first and _then_ came to my conclusion."

"And, pray, do tell, what did you determine from all these insipid questions about my love life?"

"That you lied to me before."

"What about?"

"You _did_ miss me."

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning with butterflies in her stomach. The events of the previous night came flooding back, bringing a small smile to her face. Draco had finally opened up to her, as slight as it had been. She stretched, trying to dispel some of the nervous energy she felt, and jumped out of bed. She hoped Draco wouldn't choose to hide himself away in his room all day. It would be nice to get out with him. Maybe a trip to Diagon Alley, or anywhere _outside_ this house –Hermione wasn't picky.

She quickly freshened up and headed downstairs, frowning as she realized that there seemed to be a flurry of activity.

"Ah, there she is! Hermione, good morning!" Kingsley boomed as she entered the living room, a wide grin on his face. There were two other people Hermione didn't recognize, talking to Draco.

"Kingsley," she smiled in greeting. "What brings you around this early in the day?"

"It's almost half-ten," Kingsley checked his watch to confirm. "Anyway, fantastic news! The prisoner exchange has been finalized! We didn't even have to wait the full two weeks!"

Hermione's eyes shot to Draco, the rest of Kingsley's ecstatic speech drowned out by the sudden ringing in her ears. He met her eyes as the two Ministry officials continued to speak with him and offered her a half-smile.

She was happy for him, she _was_. This was just so…

Unexpected.

"That's amazing, Kingsley," Hermione offered weakly as she realized he was waiting for her to react. "The Ministry really pulled their weight with this one."

"That they did! So Agatha and Charlie there are talking Draco through a few formalities. There are a few documents he'll need to sign and then he'll be out of your hair and you can head back home."

"Good, good," she muttered distractedly. "Um –I'm going to make some breakfast."

"Of course, of course," he waved her off. "We shan't be too long, I presume."

She walked into the kitchen and dazedly started to prepare breakfast. She didn't know why she felt this desperate sadness. It wasn't as though she wouldn't _see_ him ever again. It wasn't like that should matter anyway. They weren't even friends.

They weren't really much of anything, come to think of it. They just happened to kiss every once in a while.

She had no right to feel this way.

"Hey."

She spun around.

"Hey," she whispered, gulping down lump in her throat. "Great news, huh? That all happened really quickly. The Ministry is usually so slow at processing just about anything. It took them two months to deliver some special parchment I requisitioned once –"

"Granger." He cut off her rambling. "This doesn't change anything."

"I –"

He strode up to her and lifted her chin up so she was looking directly into his stormy eyes. "Leave me your address so I can owl you. We have unfinished business."

* * *

 **A/N: A huge thank you, as always, to everyone who's taken the time to review the story! It means so, so much (as a very lazy reader myself) that you take the extra time out to leave a comment. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter -let me know your thoughts with a review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

" _We have unfinished business."_

Those had been Draco's parting words to her three weeks ago and by the looks of things, it would remain unfinished. Whatever this _business_ was.

Hermione gave a slight shake of her head and returned her attention to the scroll in front of her. She'd gotten pretty good at not thinking about Draco Malfoy…for extended periods of time. He'd asked _her_ for her address so that _he_ could owl _her_. As far as she was concerned, the next move was quite firmly for him to make. She refused to chase after him.

Again.

Still, she'd be lying if she said that he didn't creep into her thoughts every once in a while. After all, it had been three weeks and his name seemed to pop up in the _Prophet_ nearly every other day, making it really hard to ignore his existence. After the first week had gone by with no word from him, she'd made it a point to skip over any article mentioning him. Out of sight, out of mind.

It would have been _the perfect plan_.

Except that he had struck up some sort of friendship with Harry, and ever so often, his name would come up in discussion. Every time that happened, Harry's eyes would dart to Hermione, gauging her reaction. Every time, Hermione would pretend not to notice.  
She had to, on more than one occasion, bite her tongue to stop herself from asking Harry about him. Ginny had tried to broach the subject with Hermione once or twice, and Hermione had gotten the feeling that Ginny knew something. But Hermione had stopped Ginny each time. Out of sight, out of mind. That was her new mantra. She'd survived a _war_ , for Merlin's sake. This should have been nothing in comparison.

A quiet _swoosh_ alerted her to a memo flying into her office and she ducked as it flew straight for her head.

 _Every single time_ , she thought exasperatedly, retrieving it from the floor where it eventually landed. She unfolded the piece of parchment, expecting yet another round of contract revisions from Derek. Instead, it was a note asking her to stop by his office when she had the chance. Which translated to 'drop whatever you're doing and see me'.  
She rolled her eyes and made her way to his office, squashing the impending sense of doom. The last time she'd been in there, he'd roped her into babysitting Draco. She gave a light knock and pushed his door open at the muffled ' _Enter!'_ she heard from within.

"Derek!" she exclaimed in a slightly too-fake cheery voice, before her eyes landed on the one other person in the room. "And…Blaise?" She couldn't stop the confusion colouring her tone.

Blaise rose to his feet and offered her a warm smile. "Hermione, it's good to see you."

"It's –uh –good to see you too, Blaise," Hermione responded, glancing at Derek.

"Well, since you both know each other, this will be much easier," Derek chimed in, rubbing his hands together cheerfully.

"What will?" Hermione asked, eyes narrowed.

Derek ignored her glare and continued. "Blaise is joining our team here at D.I.M.C. His time over on the mainland allowed him to build some very useful connections which the Ministry would be remiss in not using. I'd like you to help him get a feel for the way things work around here."

Hermione offered Derek a tight smile. "Of course. I'd love to." Her tone suggested otherwise.

"Great!" Derek clapped once and made a shooing motion. "Off you go then, give him the grand tour and catch him up on what we're working on. Involve him with anything we're working on with Italy."

"Right."

She motioned for Blaise to follow her, which he did, an easy smile still playing on his lips. They'd gotten no more than a few steps before Hermione slapped her forehead. "Darn, Blaise, can you give me a minute? There's something I need to run by Derek and I might as well do it while I'm here."

"Sure, I'll wait here." He nodded. "Go on, then."

Hermione doubled back to Derek's office, slipping in without the courtesy of a knock this time and closed the door behind her. The sound captured Derek's attention and he eyed her with what seemed like resignation.

"Get it off your chest, Granger," he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

" _Seriously_ , Derek?" she hissed. "Am I the resident babysitter now? First Malfoy, now Zabini? I do have _actual_ work to do, as you very well know."

"What's wrong with Zabini? He seems like a very pleasant fellow. The two of you seem to get on. And you know the department better than anyone else."

"Oh, I highly doubt I know the department better than _anyone_ else, Derek. Bernice has been working at D.I.M.C. for at least fifty-five years now, why couldn't _she_ show him the ropes? And _how_ did you determine how well we get along based on the _one sentence_ you witnessed us exchange?"

"Bernice," Derek grimaced, "If I wanted Zabini to learn about anti-aging potions, I'd send him to Bernice. I need him to learn what you know. Teach him how you work, Hermione, because you're one of the best. And I can just tell that the two of you will get along just fine."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Derek."

"I don't have to flatter you. I'm your boss, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh how can I, when you remind me at every opportunity?" Hermione muttered irritably.

"What was that?" Derek asked jauntily.

She shook her head and walked out of his office, not bothering with a response. She found Blaise where she'd left him, but he appeared to be engrossed in a conversation with another young witch. He said something and she laughed merrily, resting her hand on his arm. He dipped his head towards her, his lips moving and she laughed again, seemingly pushing him away but clearly enjoying the attention.

 _Oh Merlin,_ Hermione groaned internally. She really didn't have the time for this.

She cleared her throat as she approached them and the witch jumped away guiltily.

"Sorry about that, it took a bit longer than I expected. I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"Not at all," Blaise replied. "I was just getting to know Marie from Magical Games." He smiled at the witch again and she blushed prettily. "Marie, have you met Hermione?"

Hermione gave her a small wave. "Nice to meet you, Marie. I do apologize, but Blaise and I must be off. We have quite a bit of work to catch up on."

She clasped Blaise's elbow and pulled him along with her, briskly walking towards her office.

"Whoa, slow down there, Hermione," Blaise chuckled as they entered her workspace. "Where's the fire?"

Hermione closed the door behind her and sighed, rubbing her face. "I'm sorry, Blaise. I'm just a little frustrated with Derek right now, but I shouldn't have manhandled you like that."

Blaise was silent for a moment and then she felt his hands on her shoulders, pushing her gently towards her seat. "Whatever it is, let me help you. I'm a quick learner, I promise." He bent his head to her ear as she sat and added in a low tone, "And _you_ can manhandle me whenever you want."

Hermione stared at Blaise for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Okay, two things," she huffed, "One –does that _actually_ work on the ladies? And two, that was wildly inappropriate."

Blaise grinned as he lowered himself into a chair opposite her. "It works sometimes and I won't tell if you won't." He winked at the last part before sobering up. "Alright, now, I'm serious. I'm sure you've got lots on your plate and I'll be slowing down your pace quite a bit. Let's figure out how I can help you."

For the next few hours, they did just that.

* * *

"So, what did you think?" Hermione asked Blaise as they finally packed up their belongings for the day.

"Not bad," Blaise mused. "I wasn't sure what to expect, really."

"Smart man, keeping your expectations low," Hermione quipped.

"Always," he returned, smiling.

Blaise hadn't been lying –he was a quick learner. That, combined with his easy charm and eagerness to help, had warmed Hermione to him significantly. She'd even go so far as to say that she'd _enjoyed_ working with him. She hoped that Derek would never find out. She cast a locking charm on her office door as they stepped out and headed towards the fireplaces.

"So, Hermione, any big plans tonight?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not really. You?"

"I'm thinking of heading by a pub. Grabbing a quick pint. Come with me, if you've nothing better to do. If I recall correctly, you do owe me two rounds."

"Erm," Hermione contemplated his invitation. As much as she'd enjoyed working with him, she wasn't sure about extending their time to after-work hours. But then again, all she had to look forward to was an empty flat and sporadic thoughts of _him_ , so…what the heck. "Sure. But only if you promise to let me clear my tab with you."

"I promise," he said, hand over his heart. "Drinks are on you tonight!"

She laughed as they continued on to the fireplaces. He told her the name of the pub and a moment later, she found herself surrounded by a rambunctious crowd. She'd been to this pub a few times with Harry, Ginny and Ron. It was popular with the younger witches and wizards and they'd always bumped into someone they knew from Hogwarts.

"Hermione, this way," Blaise called. He grabbed her hand as she made her way through the crowd. "We have a table."

"We do?" she asked, but he didn't hear her over the noise. It dawned on her then that maybe she should have asked him whether he was planning on meeting anyone else at the pub before accepting his invitation. Icy cold trepidation doused her cheery mood as Blaise made a beeline for his destination, pulling her along. She chewed on her bottom lip in anxiety. Blaise had many friends, right? He had… _other_ friends? Right?

Right.

They turned a corner and Blaise lifted his free hand in greeting. Hermione peered around his shoulder, heart dropping and yet totally unsurprised.

Draco.

With Astoria.

Draped all over him.

Three seconds. That's all the time she had to pull herself together before they reached their table and came face-to-face with the two. She watched as Draco's eyes darted down to where her hand was still clasped within Blaise's and back to her face. His jaw ticked, his expression unreadable.

"How's it going?" Blaise nodded at pair, pulling a chair out for Hermione opposite Draco. Hermione bit her cheek, wondered how the situation could get any worse and sank into the seat, avoiding the stormy set trained on her.

"Blaise," Astoria's shrill voice whined. "I didn't know that you'd be bringing –" she threw Hermione a disgusted look, "–company."

Hermione offered the other witch a sickeningly sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh _Astoria_ , I had no idea that we'd be meeting the two of you here. I was rather hoping for something –" she casually slipped her hand over Blaise's where it lay on the table, " –a bit more intimate."

Blaise's eyebrows shot up, but Hermione could barely contain her satisfaction at the way the blond wizard's face darkened. Was she being petty and childish? Yes, probably.

Did he deserve it? Most definitely.

And just like that, all the resolve she'd built up over the past three weeks faded away and in its place was anger. Out of sight, out of mind didn't seem to work when she was less than three feet away from him. He didn't get to kiss her, confuse her and walk away _again_. He didn't get to ignore her while he weaseled his way in with _her_ friends.

He sure as hell didn't get to sit there with _Astoria Greengrass_ and expect her to swallow it.

She hoped her face didn't betray her thoughts as she schooled her features into the most neutral expression she could muster. Her fingers traced the back of Blaise's hand and he flipped his hand over, once again twining their fingers. A pang of regret shot through her at the way she was blatantly using Blaise, but he clearly didn't seem to mind. In fact, she could tell that he was enjoying himself and to his credit, was fully playing along.

"Just a quick pint or two before we head back to yours," Blaise responded, lifting her hand to his mouth and dropping a quick peck. They looked up at sound of a glass being slammed on the table. If looks could kill, Draco most certainly would have murdered Blaise by now.

"You alright, Draco?" Blaise asked with concern. "You seem a little off."

"I'm fine." Draco responded in a tight voice. He shot to his feet, as though unable to stay around her for another second. "I'll grab us another round."

"Cheers, mate." Blaise called out at his retreating form before winking at Hermione. He turned his attention to Astoria and Hermione tuned them out. All she'd wanted was a quiet evening. Her empty flat seemed a lot more appealing now. She sighed and freed her hand from Blaise's.

"I'll be right back," she muttered into his ear and wove around tables towards the ladies' room.

A hand shot out and grabbed her arm, pulling her through the throngs of people. She didn't have to wonder who the hand belonged to –she knew his style by now. A cool breeze hit her face as she stepped outside the pub and she took in a deep breath, sucking in the fresh air. She let him pull her around the corner of the building and finally wrenched her arm away.

He glared at her.

She glared back.

"What the _fuck_ was that display?" he all but growled, jerking his thumb towards the building.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she responded blithely.

"You and Zabini? Sorry to break it to you, but he doesn't do relationships, Granger." Draco sneered.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't see how that's any of your concern, honestly. And really, it's quite rude of you to leave Astoria in there on her own."

"Are you fuc- " He cut himself off mid-sentence and ran his hand through his hair, gripping in frustration. He turned away from her for a moment and seemed to take a deep breath. Suddenly, he spun around and pulled her to him. The harder she struggled, the tighter he held on.

"Stop it," he bit out.

"Let me go!"

"Stop squirming."

"I will if you let me go."

"Granger, just _stop_!"

She huffed in frustration and relaxed slightly. She tilted her head and shot him a suspicious glare.

"Now what?"

"Now...you hold on."

With that, she felt the familiar pressure of side-along Apparition and a second later she was standing in front of the door to her flat.

"What –?" Hermione looked at Draco in confusion.

His lips twisted in a smirk. "I would've brought us inside, but I can't get past your wards yet."

 _Yet_.

Hermione shoved him and this time he let go.

"Why are we here?"

"So we can talk without being overheard."

Hermione folded her arms. "I'm not sure what there is to talk about."

Draco huffed in laughter. "I guess we can start with why you haven't heard from me in three weeks." At Hermione's raised brow, he continued. "But I'd prefer to do it inside."

Sighing, she unlocked her door and let him in.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you're all staying safe and well out there!**


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